


Strange Places

by AyuOhseki



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Chara as a Nuanced Abuse Survivor, Endgame Frisk/Chara/Asriel, Eventual Frisk/Chara/Asriel(Flowey), Explicit Language, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Alphys/Undyne, Non-Binary Chara, Non-Binary Frisk, Past Child Abuse, Player as Antagonist, Polyamory, Sharing a Body, Soul-Searching, Spoilers - Neutral Route, Spoilers - No Mercy Route, Spoilers - Pacifist Route, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 200,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5170448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyuOhseki/pseuds/AyuOhseki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If we're really friends, you won't come back." After sparing the final boss and facing the consequences for their actions up 'til then, the fallen child takes those words to heart and resets. The next time will be better, but a question still lingers: what does it mean to be "friends"? If they keep going, maybe they'll learn the answer...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arc 1 -Frisk-: It Won't Happen Again

Frisk wakes up yet again in a bed of golden flowers, and knows as soon as they look around that the worst of the nightmare has passed. Still, though the last timeline has already been reset, their skin still feels cracked and dry from sheets of dust, and they feel like they can still feel the pulse of a heart-shaped locket on their chest. What’s left is their pulse and their pulse alone as they scramble to their feet, trying to remember.

They don’t want to remember. The last timeline went very bad, very fast. At first they responded to whispers and urges: cut this, kill that, destroy whatever tries to hurt you. At first, it was strangely liberating. For once, they were afraid of nothing. They were strong, powerful, unbeatable. But unlike the timeline before that--the first one, where they fought back only when they had to--before long, their limbs no longer moved according to their own will. When they looked in the mirror, it wasn’t them anymore. The one who had accompanied them through the timelines up until now...

...was still there, quiet, in a corner of Frisk’s mind. Their heart races to realize their presence, though of course Chara wouldn’t just disappear. Knowing they’re still there still fills them with fear, though--fear and shame and guilt, all of the wretched crawling feelings they’d tried to escape by letting no one closer than the slash of a knife. Frisk shakes and trembles, and that’s all the movement they can manage. Though the way to the door, past which Flowey has always waited, is routine enough by now that they could walk it blindfolded, right now they can’t manage a single step.

Then:

_I’m sorry,_ Chara says. _It won’t happen again._

It’s not entirely reassuring. Frisk remembers many, many very similar promises from other people that were soon broken. Still, there’s something about the way Chara says it that makes them believe them. Makes them want to believe them, anyway. Maybe they’d want to believe regardless. Frisk remembers almost nothing towards the end, but what little shreds make it through make them glad for small mercies.

_What happened?_ they wonder. One of the last coherent thoughts Frisk remembers having is wondering if anyone would be able to stop them, because they didn’t think they could stop themselves anymore.

There isn’t a response at first. Then:

_Sans happened._

Frisk doesn’t get more of an explanation than that. Frisk doesn’t try too hard to get one. When they pass through the gate, Flowey sneers at them--really, at Chara; Flowey knows a lot of things, but he has never addressed Frisk by their own name--before vanishing. Flowey’s smiling contempt is so normal, though, it’s almost comforting. But Frisk doesn’t truly feel like things are all right again until Toriel approaches with a look of concern on her face, alive and well, and they almost burst into tears on the spot. Toriel _is_ surprised when they leap at and hug her, but she takes it in affectionate stride.

_Mom,_ Frisk calls her in this timeline too, although the first time Chara blurted it out for them. She always was nicer than their own mom.

They’re nervous when they face the dummy for what they know is the third but feels like the _n_ th time. (They read that term in a book they found at Papyrus and Sans’s house. They’re actually not completely sure what it means beyond “a whole lot.”) It turns out they didn’t have to be.

_I don’t want to do this anymore,_ Chara whispers. _You do what you think is best, Frisk._

So Frisk does. It feels good, being true to themselves, and they keep doing it throughout the ruins.

The next time Chara surfaces, it’s in the bedroom Toriel’s prepared for Frisk in her home. (It’s not beyond Frisk that for the third time in a row, Toriel has failed to ask their name, but they don’t mind. She’s so nice and caring and loving, and even if she left them alone, they’re used to that kind of thing. It wasn’t even for that long, and she even apologized.) It isn’t the first time that Frisk has looked at the box full of children’s shoes, or the empty, dusty photo frame, or the hand-drawn picture of a flower, but this time, Chara asks them to touch them.

They do, seeing no harm in it. And there is no harm, even if Frisk doesn’t see the point. Chara doesn’t explain the wistfulness that trails up within them like smoke from a lit candle, either, but it seems like they’re satisfied, and so Frisk is too.

Later, after they’ve endured the fight against Toriel and Toriel hugs them good-bye for the first time since they reloaded their SAVE in the first timeline, they head out for the exit of the ruins. Once again, Flowey awaits them, and he’s even more irritated than before.

“Chara, what do you think you’re doing?” he says, smiling only in a technical sense. “Are you seriously trying to spare a few lives NOW? What are you playing at?”

Frisk doesn’t know what to say, and Chara doesn’t provide a response, so they say nothing.

“Oh, I get it,” Flowey continues, seemingly unbothered. “You’re just biding your time, huh? It’d be boring if you ended it all without playing around some more. Well, hurry it up, wouldja? The world’s not gonna destroy itself, you know!”

_Can I...?_

Chara trails off. Frisk understands what they’re trying to ask, though. They can’t recall a time when the presence inside them has asked for anything so humbly, and although they have plenty of reasons not to, they decide to trust them and surrender control once again.

And so, with Frisk’s mouth, Chara asks, “Didn’t you say you changed your mind?”

Flowey recoils as if physically struck. “I--I was just joking!” he protests, but he looks hunted. It shifts quickly into a malicious, toothy grin. “Besides, YOU were always the one who wanted to go for the kill! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten!”

_What’s he talking about?_ Frisk wonders, but Chara doesn’t respond. Maybe it’s because they don’t get the chance, but Frisk has never known Chara to share anything about themself.

“Wait,” Flowey interrupts himself, frowning. “Is THAT what this is about? You’ve gotten cold feet? Just because you got killed yourself a few times? What a hypocrite!”

“I didn’t see _you_ out there fighting him.”

Again, Flowey looks hunted. Chara seems to have a talent for picking the exact thing to say to throw him off his groove.

“Whatever,” he finally declares, assuming a disdainful expression. “Call me when you get bored of pretending to be a goody-two-shoes, Chara.” Flowey winks, tongue sticking out, and sing-songs, “I’ll be waiting~!”

And then he folds himself into the earth and is gone. There’s nowhere left for Frisk to go but forward, but that’s been true for a long, long time.

_Chara?_

_Yeah?_

_Did you fight Sans?_

_You don’t remember?_ And, when Frisk doesn’t answer, _What else don’t you remember?_

_A lot._ Frisk pauses. _I don’t think I want to remember._

_Oh._ Chara is silent for long enough that Frisk thinks they’re going to leave it at that. Then: _He said, if we were really friends, I shouldn’t come back._

Frisk waits. For context, for an explanation, for anything.

_At first I was mad,_ they continue. _Then when I stopped being mad, I thought it was really funny. You, uh, had to have been there, I guess._

Frisk giggles a little despite everything. For some reason, that cheers Chara up just a little, too.

_And then it made me start to think. A short while before all that, Flowey told me about a lot I didn’t know. Stuff about himself. Once I thought about what he said,_ really _thought about it, it made me realize a few things._

_Like what?_

Chara is quiet for another moment. Their discomfort is palpable. Then, in a very tiny mental voice: _I’ve been a bad friend, haven’t I?_

Frisk’s first instinct is to comfort them, but though what remains of them are tattered, their memories of the last timeline are too vivid for anything but complete sincerity: _Yeah, you have._ They pause, then add in surprise, _Wait--I didn’t know we were friends?_

Chara is silent. Frisk wonders for a second if they misunderstood them, if Chara was talking about someone else, but before they can ask, Chara says, _I’ve never had a human friend before._

_Me neither,_ Frisk admits.

_Oh,_ Chara utters. Then, _We... might actually have a lot in common, huh._

Frisk isn’t sure how to react to that. Fortunately, they don’t have to.

_Let’s keep doing it your way this time,_ they say. _I’ll do what I can to support you. I want to see how far we can go._

_Yeah._ Frisk takes another deep breath, but when they let it out, this time, they’re smiling in relief. They stare at the door leading out of the ruins, and knowing what awaits them on the other side fills them with determination. _Okay. Let’s go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At reader request, as of 7/17/16, I've gone in and added notes explaining the various references in _SP_ , chapter by chapter, where any non- _UT_ references exist. I think I've gotten everything, but if you have any questions on anything that looks like a reference, feel free to ask and I'll confirm if it was intended to be one or not.
> 
> The title style of a character quote from that chapter was inspired by the anime _Puella Magi Madoka Magica_ , whose episode titles are done in the same style. This isn't the only thing that has ever done titles in that way, but that's where I got the idea.


	2. How Do Skeletons Talk Long-Distance?

The chill of the Snowdin forest bites their face, but Frisk breathes it in deeply and then exhales a cloud of white. It feels good to _feel_ , to know that they’re still themselves. It’s... heartening.

(Inside, Chara snickers, and when Frisk realizes their own thoughts, they too laugh at the unintended pun.)

The path forward is easy; it’s a single dirt trail packed in by trees and shrubs. They ignore the rustling behind them, and turn around obediently to shake a new pal’s hand when told. The fart-like burst of air cuts the wind, and though Frisk knew perfectly well that would happen, they find themselves laughing anyway.

“Heh. Whoopie cushion in the hand. That’s always funny,” Sans says with their usual wink and grin. He introduces himself, and this time Frisk listens without fear or numbness. It feels almost like they’re meeting for the first time, but...

“...Huh.” Sans peers at them. “It’s the weirdest thing, but... I get the feeling like this isn’t the first time we’ve met.” He pauses. “But that’s impossible--right?”

It’s a leading question, and they both know it. _Lie like a dog,_ Chara begs, and there is real dread in their mental voice. Frisk is not good at lying, though, especially not on the spot, so they lower their eyes and give a noncommittal shrug and hope that’ll be enough.

Their hopes are rewarded. Sans lets it slide, and together they move forward. Again, Frisk hides behind a conveniently-shaped lamp, and again, Papyrus completely fails to look behind it like Sans suggests again and again. In the first timeline, Frisk thought that Sans had tricked them, was trying to backstab them; now, with the benefit of hindsight, they understand that Sans is demonstrating to them that his brother really is harmless.

_He’s still dumb, though,_ Chara remarks of Papyrus.

_He’s not dumb, he’s nice,_ Frisk argues.

_Same thing._

Frisk considers pointing out that “nice” is what they’re being this time around, then decides it’s probably better not to press the point. They’re finally getting along (more or less), and while neither are great, Frisk vastly prefers cynicism to bloodthirstiness.

“Thanks,” Frisk tells him, very quietly, after Papyrus is gone.

“Hey, no problem, kid. Papyrus is real enthusiastic about capturing a human, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Sans reassures them. “You got nothing to worry about. Although, let me give you a piece of advice. If you’re thinking about fighting my brother...” He winks his right eye shut. “ _Don’t_.”

Frisk remembers the first timeline, when they’d laid a slew of insults on Papyrus’s head with Chara’s urging, and the skeleton had accepted them as proof that they were trying to hide their true feelings. They remember the blue bones and the special attack that an annoying dog had run off with. And they remember last timeline, when Papyrus had offered to help guide them to a good path and opened his arms for a hug of acceptance without even trying to lay a hand of violence on them, and knows, despite the blue bones of the first timeline, that Sans is right and his advice is sound. Their stomach turns.

“You all right there, buddy?” Sans adds, eyeing them. “You’re not looking so _hot_. Why don’t you _chill_ for a few?”

Frisk smiles a little despite everything and shakes their head.

“No? Well, you better get going, in that case.” He winks again, this time with his left eye. “Unless you wanna endure more of my hilarious jokes.”

Chara makes it immediately clear what their desire is, and it doesn’t take much to get Frisk to agree. It’s hard to face Sans. Back then, maybe they could have stopped Chara if they’d really wanted to, if they’d just _tried_ , but they hadn’t. And after that, they stopped trying to do anything at all.

\---

Several monsters block their path along the way, though Frisk is at least able to SAVE first. Chara is in poor spirits, so when Snowdrake appears talking about how his favorite cereal is “frosted,” they suggest heckling him. Frisk can’t say they really thought that one was that funny either, so they wonder how to go about heckle him, and Chara quips about how no one will ever love him as he is. It’s only after Snowdrake sputters and then slinks off, visibly crushed, that Frisk realizes they’d said that aloud.

_Why would you even say that?!_ they demand as they LOAD their SAVE. _That’s so mean!_

_If you don’t want mean, then don’t ask me what to say, Frisk!_

Frisk doesn’t have a good retort for this, so they drop it and move on; this time, they laugh at Snowdrake’s jokes and let him go peacefully. An encounter with a snowman north of the crossroads goes better, but as they leave with a piece of said snowman, Ice Cap ends up blocking their way. Complimenting him does no good, so Frisk resigns themselves to just ignoring him.

_Hey. Steal his hat,_ Chara urges.

_I don’t know..._

_Come on, it’s a harmless prank. It’s not_ that _mean; you can just give it back._

_But it’s still kind of mean._

_Fine, then don’t do it,_ Chara grumbles.

Frisk sighs a little and moves on. After petting Doggo and later Lesser Dog into submission, they encounter Ice Cap and Snowdrake a few more times, sometimes with Jerry in tow. After the fifth time, Frisk is frustrated enough to actually try stealing Ice Cap’s hat after having to ignore him so many times. They succeed, too, to Chara’s delight, but delight melts as quickly as the hat, which drips onto the ground almost as soon as Frisk removes it. When Ice Cap is then reduced to a mere block of Ice, the air is filled with the smell of frozen despair.

_OH MY GOD,_ Chara and Frisk shriek in unison.

Frantic, Frisk compliments him, telling him his new look is still very nice. When it seems like this reassures him, they let him go, hurrying along the path. Chara, chastised, insists they had no idea that would happen, but they hardly need to apologize for that one. Frisk knows they had no idea either, and it was their decision to go along with the suggestion. At least it turned out all right in the end, and they tell Chara as much, to their relief.

They manage past the other canine sentries as well as Papyrus’s puzzles. In the first timeline, Frisk hadn’t been able to keep track of all the colored squares; in the second, Chara had ignored it entirely, along with every other puzzle Papyrus had tried to bamboozle them with. This time, Chara keeps track of the colored squares and Frisk answers with confidence that they understand... only for the puzzle machine to break down and give them a single solid pink pathway. Frisk finds themselves marveling at how many convenient things there are in the Snowdin area while Chara eyes Sans, who hangs out near the busted machine.

Eventually, they make it to Snowdin proper, and even with a blue heart, Frisk makes it past Papyrus. In an attempt to lighten up an otherwise stressful fight, they flirt with him as a joke (they’d jokingly flirted with Toriel in the first timeline too, after Chara had addressed her as “Mom”; in retrospect, that must have been really awkward), and are as surprised as he is when he ends up agreeing to go on a date.

Frisk has never been on a date before. Neither has Chara. Neither, apparently, has Papyrus. If it’s a disaster, it’s the best disaster Frisk has ever experienced. By the end of it, after they’ve explored all around Papyrus’s house and room (Sans’s room is locked, and he doesn’t answer when they knock despite definitely being in there), they’ve cheered up immensely. As fun as it was, though, it’s a relief to know that Papyrus ultimately isn’t interested in _actually_ dating any more than Frisk is.

After trading phone numbers, Papyrus escorts them downstairs, and Frisk pauses to see Sans now lounging on the lumpy couch, a book cracked open in his lap.

“Hey,” he says, grinning up at the two. “How was the date?”

“It was amazing!!!” Papyrus enthuses. “Which is why we have decided that romance is not for us and we are best just being very awesome friends.”

Frisk nods in agreement, a smile blooming on their face.

“Heh. Sounds like you’re both pretty happy with how it turned out. I’m glad to hear it,” Sans says. He looks at Frisk. “You heading out already, kid?”

They nod again.

“Take care, then. I’ll see you soon.”

“Be sure to call!!” Papyrus insists as they head past the couch for the door. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Undyne! I’m sure you’ll be great pals!!!”

Frisk’s smile turns nervous, and they scratch their cheek. They have no experience with having ever been Undyne’s friend, both the previous timelines having ended in her death... presumably. They don’t remember how the second timeline’s encounter turned out--most everything after Papyrus’s death is all a blur--but...

_Oh yeah, I killed her,_ Chara says. _That was a tough fight, too. Way tougher than the first time. I was surprised._

...that’s probably definitely for the best, they decide gloomily.

“Something on your mind, kid?” Sans asks.

Frisk jumps a little and re-focuses on Sans, who is watching them closely.

“It must be how devastated they are to have to leave the company of such an amazing and handsome friend such as myself!!” Papyrus declares, then poses with one hand on his chest and a brilliant, rakish grin. “Worry not, human! I promise to pick up anytime you call, no matter when it is. You shall never want for the melodious sound of my voice! Nyeh heh heh!!”

Though that’s completely off, it cheers Frisk up anyway. They smile again and nod vigorously.

“He’s serious about anytime,” Sans adds. “You could call him up at 4 AM and still get him on the second ring.” He winks. “Good for if you’ve got any problems you need to talk through, huh?”

Frisk scratches the side of their head and looks away. They’ve got the uncomfortable feeling that, even without actual memories of it, Sans has a better idea of what happened last timeline than they’d thought... though maybe it’s just a guilty conscience. Chara notes something to them, and they focus on Sans’s book before pointing at it and looking up at Papyrus.

“Hmm? Oh, that’s just Sans’s joke book. He’s always leaving that thing around,” Papyrus says. “Which reminds me, Sans, take it back to your room this time!!! And don’t forget your sock!!!”

“OK.”

“Don’t you ‘OK’ me!” Papyrus side-eyes the sock in question. “...Again. ...For the fifth time.”

“OK.”

“Argh!!!!”

“So were you interested in borrowing it?” Sans says, winking at Frisk. “Sorry, but this one’s not on loan.”

Frisk shakes their head. “You’ve got a physics book in there,” they say.

“Yup, I sure do. You took a look, huh?”

“Oh, please. You just have another joke book inside of it,” Papyrus grumbles, folding his arms.

“...And another physics book inside that,” Frisk notes.

“Yup, I sure do,” Sans repeats, unfazed. “What about it?”

Frisk regards him for a second. Then they start to smile. “I didn’t know you had such a _layered_ personality.”

“Oooh!! Good one, human!!” Papyrus enthuses as Sans laughs. “You see, brother?!? This is all due to my excellent influence! That’s what a quality pun looks like, not another one of your tired old skeleton jokes!”

“I’m pretty tired, too,” Sans replies. He winks at Frisk and adds, “ _Bone_ tired.”

“Ugh!!!”

Frisk smothers a giggle, then half-turns towards the door and waves back at the brothers.

“Oh, you’re leaving?? Well... Come visit again soon and see your cool friend!!” Papyrus says, bouncing back into good cheer. “You’re welcome here anytime!!!”

“What he said,” Sans agrees. “Don’t be a stranger, all right, kid?”

Guilt twinges inside Frisk again. It would’ve been better if they _could_ have gotten this far starting out as strangers. Still, they nod and move to leave. They’ve got their hand on the doorknob when Chara sends up a pulse of desire. It’s just to convey a question, so they pause and turn back around.

“Um...” they say, looking up at the two skeleton brothers. Frisk listens to the question and starts to smile. “How do skeletons talk long-distance?”

Papyrus squints, considering the inquiry. “Well... that’s really a broad question! Of course you already have my number, but there’s all sorts of other ways, too!” He puffs out his chest and grins. “For example, I enjoy reaching out to all negative two of my followers on the Undernet! Also, I like to speak very loudly!!”

Sans raises a brow ridge, but his grin grows a little too. “I dunno. How?” he prompts.

Frisk listens more, then grins and blurts out, “By tele- _bone_!”

Papyrus’s eyes bug out. “Oh my god??? Why????” he wails. “Why would you do this to your cool friend?!?!!?”

Sans laughs again, and inside Frisk, so does Chara. “Good one, kid. I gotta remember that one.” He reaches over from the couch to tousle their hair, and while Chara’s laughter cuts off with a flinch, Frisk revels in the touch. “You’re a natural comedian. Keep it up, and someday you might even be as funny as me.”

“Sans!!! This is all your fault!!! You’re a bad influence on the human!!!” Papyrus accuses, stomping a foot. “At this rate, you’ll...”

What Sans will do, Frisk doesn’t hear. They let themselves out, shutting the door behind them, and take a deep breath of the wintry air. Then they begin the walk over to the inn to get in a power nap. After that, they’ll have to move on. Despite this, though, they leave in a good mood, because aside from that one moment with Sans that was probably just in their head anyway, it all went so well: they made a good friend who likes them as much as they like him, they shared a lot of laughs, they probably didn’t get spaghetti-based food poisoning, they even got his phone number so they can call anytime, and on top of that...

_I didn’t know you liked making jokes!_

Embarrassment streaks out from Chara. _Someone I liked a lot used to love them,_ they admit. _She’d cheer me up with them. When I first met her, I wasn’t really up for kidding around much, but she shared some with me and it made me smile. Once I got to know her better, we made jokes at each other all the time. Hehe... It drove the others nuts. It was... a lot of fun._

_It sounds like fun. I bet it was really nice,_ they think, wistful. _Who was she?_

_I-it doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. ...I’d forgotten all about it until now._

Frisk waits for Chara to say something else, but they don’t. They know better than to press, so they don’t. But knowing even this little bit more about the one sharing their body--and knowing that one day, they might tell them more about themselves--fills them with determination.


	3. I Hate That Story

Waterfall is exactly what it sounds like: wet, wet, wet, and more wet. When Sans gives them an easy grin from his sentry post and invites them to Grillby’s, Frisk hesitates, then accepts. Nothing about timelines comes up, though, and they enjoy their fries with peace and a lack of ketchup. Chara is revulsed by the fact that Sans drinks it straight from the bottle ( _at least get a cup and mix it with water,_ they complain), but Frisk only mentally shrugs and keeps eating their meal. When Sans asks them about talking flowers, it’s still just a conversation about Papyrus. Well... and the talking flower Papyrus apparently sometimes meets when he’s alone. Frisk knows perfectly well that must be Flowey, and they consider telling Sans so this time, but once again Chara recommends against it. There’s not much they can do about it, anyway.

“Oh, by the way--I almost forgot,” Sans says on his way out. He saunters back to Frisk, who has just shoved the last of their fries in their mouth and hopped off the bar stool. “We got distracted with all your great jokes back at the house, but did you have something you wanted to say to me?”

Frisk’s pulse speeds up, and they’re intensely glad they just stuffed their face full. They chew slowly and shake their head, hoping they don’t look too guilty.

“No? Well, you wouldn’t with your mouth full like that. My bad,” he replies, winking his left eye shut. “See you later, kiddo.”

They place a hand on their chest after Sans has gone. Once they’ve swallowed and calmed down, they wipe their mouth on their sleeve and leave the bar.

_Maybe we should tell him the truth,_ Frisk thinks as they start heading back out of town. _Things are different now, and we’re friends with Papyrus. I think it’d be okay._

_So do you want to tell him we killed his beloved brother last timeline, or should I?_

Frisk purses their lips. Around them, Snowdin is lively with friendly monsters who greet them and bid them goodbye, who have conversations with each other, who walk to and from buildings, who hang out right where they are. It overlays for a second with a vision of a ghost town, and they shiver.

_I wonder what Flowey’s doing with Papyrus, anyway,_ they say, now hurrying a little.

_Mm._

_I mean, Flowey’s really mean, and Papyrus is really nice, but Flowey doesn’t sound like he’s being mean to Papyrus... And the stuff Sans said about “predictions” must be guesses on what’s going to happen based on what happened in other timelines. Why would he do that?_

_Who knows?_

_Am I annoying you, Chara?_

_It’s your head, Frisk. You can think what you want,_ they reply testily.

Which is true, but not at all the point of their question. Frisk decides to keep their pondering to themselves.

Once again, they pass Sans’s sentry station, waving as they go. They remember how to use the bridge seeds from the first timeline, so solving that puzzle is no problem, but they trip along the way and nearly fall into the lazy stream past the wood bridge. Instead, the bandage they’d originally worn when they fell into Mt. Ebott jostles out of their pocket, rolls into the stream and comes undone, then starts bobbing downstream.

_Hey! My bandage!_ Frisk cries in their head, scrambling to their feet.

_Why do you care?_ says Chara. _It’s a bandage. It barely even sticks anymore; it’s just taking up space in your pockets._

This is logical and sensible and Frisk doesn’t care. They hurry along the stream’s bank, trying to reach the bandage, but it’s too far away and soon it bobs past the cavern wall. Frisk holds onto the wall and peers down to try to see where the bandage goes, and they’re pleased to see it doesn’t go far. It seems to be caught along a wood boardwalk, though why it doesn’t reach as far as where they are is beyond them.

_I think I can get it if I make a bridge,_ they tell themselves.

_Why do you care??_ Chara repeats. _It’s. A. Bandage. It barely even sticks anymore! It’s just taking up space in your pockets!_

_I just do, okay? They’re my pockets and I can fill them with what I want._

They sigh. _Fine, do whatever._

_I_ will _do whatever._

_You get stubborn over the weirdest things._

But Frisk is already gathering bridge seeds and dropping them into the steam one by one. As they’d hoped, once the fourth one joins with the others, the seeds all bloom in sync, giving them a stepway that connects to the boardwalk. Smiling in triumph, Frisk heads down it, and on the other side finds another room.

There is, as far as they can tell, no way to access this room beyond what they just did with the bridge seeds, but it is definitely a room. They can tell because there’s a bench in it. They walk over to the bandage, which had looped in the last few pegs of the boardwalk, and fish it out. Once it’s rung out and they’ve stuck it securely back in their pocket, they then approach the bench out of curiosity. Something’s underneath it, and they squat down to look at it.

_It’s... a quiche,_ Chara observes, somewhat unnecessarily. _I guess someone just abandoned it here._

Something in Frisk’s chest squeezes, and they stare at the flaky pastry for a while. Somehow, they can just imagine whoever left it there telling it they’d be right back. They glance up--there is a single echo flower next to the bench--and although they’re sure it’s a bad idea, they check it to see what it says.

“I just wasn’t ready for the responsibility,” an unknown voice whispers.

They stare for a little longer. Then they swallow hard as the squeezing spreads into their throat. Slowly, they retreat to the bench and take a seat.

_Frisk?_

_I-I’m fine,_ Frisk says immediately. The words are rote, so imprinted in them that they aren’t aware they’ve thought them until several seconds after the fact. They take several deep breaths, one after another, and rub their eyes, which have grown damp.

_Why are you getting emotional over a quiche?_ Chara wonders, baffled.

_I’m fine,_ Frisk repeats, again without chewing over the words before they spit them out.

_You don’t seem fine to me._

_I’m fine! I’m just... remembering... things._

_Oh._

This finally gets Chara to hush up for a while. As Frisk remembers things they don’t want to remember, they get the feeling of someone sitting next to them. They look up, but no one is there; even so, the sense of a presence stays. It’s a little reassuring, but only a little. Though Chara doesn’t say so, Frisk is sure it’s them. Or maybe it’s just in their head. Same thing. They tuck their legs up and hug their knees to their chest. The valley between their knees invites weary foreheads to rest, and they accept the invitation, sniffling every once in a while.

In those hazy moments, there’s nothing Frisk would like more than a hug and a few kind words, but they don’t get their wish. It’s fine. They’re used to that.

_Hey, so..._ Chara speaks up; their tone is more subdued than usual. _Can I ask you something?_

Frisk lifts their head and wipes their eyes on the sleeve of their sweater. _What?_

_Why did you..._ They trail off. _No, never mind. No, wait, I changed my mind. Uh... Why--I mean, what... what’s your favorite book?_

_My favorite... what?_

_Book. Mine’s_ The Little Prince _. What’s yours?_

It’s the first time Chara has ever asked Frisk anything about themselves. It leaves them flabbergasted. Fortunately, they don’t have to think hard for an answer.

Night on the Galactic Railroad _,_ they say.

_Never read it. What’s it about?_

_Ummm... Basically... This boy who’s getting bullied at school gets on a magic train with his best friend, and they take a train ride through the galaxy._

_Wow, that sounds cool. I wish I could read it._

It surprises Frisk how much hearing that cheers them up, but they don’t question it; they just straighten their shoulders and smile. _Thanks. What’s_ The Little Prince _about?_

_Oh, uh... A guy meets this prince who used to live all by himself with this one flower he took care of on this tiny planet, and the prince tells him about the other places and people he’s seen before he came to Earth._

_Oh, that sounds cool, too._ Frisk pauses. It seems they’re allowed to be openly curious right now, so they take a chance and wonder, _What other books do you like?_

_Uhh... Have you ever read_ The Chronicles of Narnia _?_

_Oh! Yeah, I love those books! I used to read_ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe _over and over again!_

Chara brightens. _Yeah, that’s a really good one, isn’t it? I used to dream about finding a magic wardrobe and running away to Narnia._

_Me too._

_Who’s your favorite?_

_I like Lucy. She’s the most like me--I like exploring, too._

_I liked Lucy, too. I can’t believe how long it had to take her to get her dumb siblings to believe her about the wardrobe._

_They weren’t that bad,_ Frisk argues. _Peter got the idea to ask around about it and all, and they all believed her once they actually saw Narnia._

_I guess. Lucy’s still the best, though._

_Yeah. I liked her whole family, though._

_What? Seriously? Even Edmund?_

_You don’t like Edmund?_

_I_ hate _Edmund. He bullies Lucy and sells her and the others out to the White Witch all because he wanted some candy. Lucy should’ve let him die._

_But he feels bad for what he did and stops doing bad things. He makes up for it and everything. Plus, I think Lucy wouldn’t be as great as she is if she hadn’t saved his life._

Chara emanates a smoke trail of exasperation. _You’re too nice, Frisk._

_Is that bad?_

They sigh. After a moment of not answering the question, they ask, _What other books do you like?_

_The_ Harry Potter _books are good. Oh, and I like Roald Dahl’s stuff._

_Heh. Don’t tell me: your favorite’s_ Matilda _?_

_How’d you know?_

_Let’s call it a hunch._

_I like fairy tales and stuff, too,_ Frisk adds, shifting their seat to get more comfortable. _Brothers Grimm, Hans Christian Andersen..._

_You’ve got good taste, Frisk._ As Frisk beams at the praise, Chara continues, _Have you ever read the originals?_

_Originals?_

_Yeah, like--you know_ Cinderella _? In the original version, when she gets married, her stepmom and stepsisters have the nerve to show up, so a flock of birds swoop down and peck their eyes out._ With great relish, Chara concludes, _It’s awesome._

_Uh... n-no, I don’t remember reading that..._

_Oh. That’s too bad._

_Um..._ Frisk thinks back to their favorites and asks, _Do you like_ The Little Match Girl _?_

_OH MY GOD NO. I HATE THAT STORY._

Had Frisk not already been sitting, the force of Chara’s fury would have knocked them on their butt. As it is, they topple over and nearly fall off the bench. Baffled, they wonder, _Why??_

_WHY? Are you seriously asking that? Have you even read it? It’s horrible!_ Chara rages so rapidly that Frisk almost can’t keep up. _She’s left all alone in the snow to sell matches, and she can’t go home without selling any or else--or else, and nobody pays attention to her! Nobody even looks at her while she’s freezing to death! She DIES, and no one cares!!_

Taken thoroughly aback, Frisk utters, _I-I never would’ve guessed that’d bother you._

_You better believe it bothers me!_ Chara seethes. _They all act like it’s soooo sad afterwards, but if they really felt that bad, someone would’ve done something! But they don’t! Because they don’t care! They just shrug and look the other way and go ‘oh, how awful, if only someone had done something’ when the worst happens like it had nothing to do with them!!_

_But she gets to go to Heaven where her grandma is. She dies happy,_ Frisk says, poleaxed.

_No she doesn’t! She hallucinates and collapses and dies and nobody even notices until the next day._ It’s now that Frisk begins to realize that Chara isn’t just angry, they’re deeply upset. _It’s awful. If just one person had gone over to her and taken her inside somewhere warm, she wouldn’t have died. But nobody came. I hate it. It’s awful. I hate it._

In the wake of Chara’s rant, Frisk can hear their heart pounding. They think again about the quiche, still waiting under the bench for someone to pick it up and give it a home.

Then, meekly: _I never read it that way. Um... I get where you’re coming from, though._

Chara’s voice is both irritable and tired when they ask, _Then how do_ you _read it?_

_Well... You’re right, she dies and no one pays any attention, but... it’s okay. Every match she lights shows her nice food and warm houses and her nice grandma in Heaven, and then in the end that’s where she gets to go. She ends up someplace where she won’t be lonely or hurt anymore and she can be happy and be with someone who loves her. She can finally rest. I don’t know... I always thought it was comforting._

Chara is silent for a very long time. Then, quietly: _I guess._ And then: _Never mind. I got carried away. Let’s stop._

OK, Frisk replies, and they have to admit to themselves that as much as it stung to hear how much Chara despises their favorite short story, they’re disappointed by the sudden end. Disappointed and oddly tired. _I’m sorry for upsetting you. I didn’t mean to._

You _didn’t do anything wrong, Frisk,_ Chara says wearily. _Let’s just stop._

Frisk lets it go. As the seconds drag on, they find that it’s taking them longer and longer to open their eyes after they blink. Maybe it’s because Chara seemed worn out after getting so angry, but they feel like they could really use a nap. It’s chilly in this room, but the light is low and the sound of water is soothing, so they curl up on the bench and shut their eyes.

As Frisk begins to drift off, Chara’s quiet voice floats to them.

_You’ll probably think this is really stupid, but... when I was little, I wanted to save the match girl._

_Yeah?_ they think muzzily.

_Yeah. I’d read it over and over, yelling at the adults who walked by to stop and take her somewhere good. Of course, that never happened, but I was dumb back then,_ they spit. _Then I’d imagine going into the story and taking her somewhere good myself._

_That doesn’t sound like you,_ they admit.

Chara laughs, and it’s an ugly, bitter sound. _See? Stupid, right?_

_No. I think it’s nice._

They pause. When they speak again, they’re even quieter: _It doesn’t matter, anyway. You can’t go in and save a character from a story. It’s pointless to even try._

_You could if you wrote a new ending._

_Haha... I’ve tried that before. It just makes it all worse._

_Chara..._

_Go to sleep, Frisk. You’re tired._

‘Conversation over,’ in other words. Frisk doesn’t try to press them. It’s true, though, and while the conversation has given them a lot to think about, their tiredness overtakes them, and soon they doze off.

\---

They wake up feeling warm and safe, and blink muzzily to still find themselves on the bench. Of course, where else would they be? ...would be what they’d normally think, but as they push themselves upright, a blanket falls away from their shoulder. It’s fuzzy and blue; they think they saw blankets like this for sale in Snowdin. They blink around, confused, but there’s no sign of anyone anywhere. The only footprints on the boardwalk are their own, too. They look back down at the fluffy blanket and hug it, cheered but confused.

_Where’d it come from?_

_Try checking the echo flower._

They look up and over at the luminescent blue bloom, and they purse their lips. Then they take a deep breath and nod. When they touch it, it shivers with a voice they both know well:

“Sheesh. Catch some Z’s in a place like this and you’ll end up catching cold, too.

“Sleep tight, kiddo.”

A slow smile dawns across Frisk’s lips, and they take a step back still hugging the blanket to their chest. They begin to bounce over to the boardwalk, but skid to a halt and look back at the bench. There’s room in their pockets, but even if there weren’t, they’d make room. They scoot down, pick up the abandoned quiche, and tuck it away.

Sans isn’t at the sentry station when they return to it, but that’s fine. They leave the blanket folded under the roof for him to pick up when he returns.

_He likes you, huh._

It must be Frisk’s imagination, but Chara almost sounds wistful. _I guess so,_ they reply. _Are you really sure we shouldn’t tell him the truth?_

_Let’s... just take this one thing at a time._

Which isn’t a yes, but also isn’t a no. As they double back and continue on towards Waterfall proper, the thought that maybe they really can create a better ending fills them with determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books referenced:  
>  _The Little Prince_ (original title: _Le Petit Prince_ ), by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry  
>  _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ (o/t: _Ginga Tetsudou no Yoru_ ), by Kenji Miyazawa  
>  _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ , book one of _The Chronicles of Narnia_ , by C.S. Lewis  
> The _Harry Potter_ series, by J.K. Rowling  
>  _Matilda_ , by Roald Dahl
> 
> Short stories referenced:  
>  _Cinderella_ , collected and retold by The Brothers Grimm  
>  _The Little Match Girl_ , by Hans Christian Andersen
> 
> Chara's favorite book is probably actually _Kitchen_ by Banana Yoshimoto, due to how the narration quotes it at one point during the No Mercy Run, but that wasn't largely known at the time this chapter was written, so let's just pretend they picked their favorite that they thought Frisk might have heard of rather than their actual favorite.


	4. I Don't Believe This

The trip through Waterfall takes a while--longer than Frisk remembers. Undyne’s attacks don’t help, though they manage to get past them without getting killed. Even with Monster Kid hanging out with them along the way, by the time they make it to the town proper, they’re pretty worn out. Hanging out with Napstablook, lying on the floor with them and listening to music helps. Saving Monster Kid from their fall does too, in a way. Fighting Undyne directly not long after... less so.

She kills them twice before Frisk decides that trying to engage the battle on her terms while still not actually fighting is a terrible idea and flees as soon as their heart turns red again, no matter what Undyne roars about never running away. It takes both of them well into Hotland, and when Undyne collapses from the heat only feet away from a water cooler, Chara really wants to bring her a cup of water just to pour it out on the bridge right in front of her face. Frisk vetoes that and gives it to her normally, and is grateful that gets her to go away.

It’d been a close thing, though. If Sans hadn’t been napping at the Hotland sentry station and distracted Undyne, they wouldn’t have been able to reach the bridge in time. In the first timeline, Frisk would have assumed it was a coincidence; now... well, probably nothing with Sans is _just_ a coincidence.

When Papyrus had called during the chase and suggested that they and Undyne should all hang out and be pals, Chara nearly shoves Frisk to one side to tell him where he can stick his friendship. It would have been funny had they not been running for their lives, though Undyne had been nice enough to stop to let them take their call. After the crisis is over and Undyne is gone (so is Sans--but not the snow on the roof of his sentry station), Frisk and Chara argue over whether or not to go to Undyne’s place back in Waterfall. Eventually, Frisk convinces them to let them handle it. They trust Papyrus, and if they can convince Undyne to stand down for good, it’ll make the rest of their journey a lot easier. Chara tells them they’d just better SAVE first before plonking themselves down into a corner of their mind with the air of anticipating death and ruin.

An hour later, Undyne’s house is on fire.

It’s the best hour Frisk has spent since they went on a date with Papyrus.

Even Chara had fun, to the surprise of them both; they laughed for a full minute when Papyrus bowed out for the night (“He jumped out the window!!” they crowed over and over). It helps that Undyne’s cooking lessons are _super aggressive_ , something that Chara can get behind. It helps even more that Undyne hates humans and is extremely open about this; Chara calls it “relatable.” Frisk calls them weird, but they just laugh.

They laugh more when Undyne gives them her phone number with a fierce and fishy grin, and that’s reflected on Frisk’s face, even when she gives them a good-bye noogie before heading to Papyrus and Sans’s place. They could probably follow her to Snowdin if they wanted to, but they decide after overwriting their SAVE to leave that for later; there’s a long trip ahead, and they’ll be able to see the riverperson in Hotland, anyway.

_I get now why she’s so popular,_ Chara remarks as Frisk retraces their steps. _She’s actually really fun._

Frisk takes off their shoes and socks and sloshes past the streams. _Yeah, I’m glad it all worked out. I felt so awful when we killed her the first timeline; she just wouldn’t stop fighting..._

_Hey, I told you she’d never give up._

_Yeah. But she seems like a really good person when she’s not trying to kill us._

For some reason, this makes Chara laugh. _I liked her cooking lesson. Hitting that tomato as hard as we could was_ really _satisfying._ More wryly, they add, _You can tell Papyrus learned from her._

Frisk remembers the plate of spaghetti that Papyrus had offered them during their date. Their lips pucker at the mere memory of the taste. _Maybe we shouldn’t get more cooking lessons from Undyne._

_Aw, but that was so fun! I’ve never burned a house down before!_ Chara protests _way_ more cheerfully than Frisk thinks they ought to.

_At least she’s got somewhere to go._ On their way through the grass paths, they press the occasional lantern to keep their way lit. _It_ was _fun, though. I’ve never cooked before! Unless you count instant ramen._

_Pff. That stuff’s better dry anyway._

Frisk makes their way through the lantern grass. _Have you ever cooked before?_

There’s a pause. When they reply, the cheer has left their voice: _I baked, once._

_Really? What’d you bake?_

_A disaster._

Frisk wonders, given how enthusiastic Chara was about burning someone’s house down, how bad it had to have been to be classified in all apparent seriousness as a “disaster.”

_Papyrus really gets Undyne, though, huh?_ they decide to change the subject to. _If he hadn’t bet she couldn’t be our friend, that could’ve gotten bad._

_Frisk, what do you mean, ‘our’ friend?_

_What? Didn’t you just finish saying you thought she was fun?_

_Yeah, but she’s not ‘our’ friend, she’s_ your _friend. She doesn’t know I exist._

_She_ could _be your friend. They all could. If you want them to._

Chara laughs cynically. _I doubt they’d feel the same way._ And when Frisk starts to protest: _Undyne really gets Papyrus too, huh? All that talk about how he’d be a lousy guard because he’d try to make friends with the enemy and get himself hurt. She sure has him pegged._

_Yeah..._

_You get what I’m saying, right?_

_...Yeah, I do._

_Then let’s just be glad they’ll be_ your _friend. I’m a lousy one, anyway._

_Yeah,_ Frisk admits, _but you’re trying to not be. I think that counts for a lot._

Chara makes a faint huffing sound and that’s all, but a sense of buoyant pink blooms betrays their real feelings. Frisk smiles and smothers a giggle.

They chat a little more as Frisk wades through more ponds and streams. It’s actually pretty relaxing, especially with the glow of the echo flowers, and Frisk meanders, occasionally stopping to call Papyrus and Undyne to chat, listen to echo flowers, read plaques, have flexing contests with Aaron, and ask Woshua to clean them. Occasionally, though it annoys Woshua immensely, they let Chara make dirty jokes at them (“So did you hear the one about the kid who liked to sleep in the soil? Yeah, he took a real _dirt nap_ ”).

They’re approaching the last bridge before the rock where Undyne had attacked them when Chara suddenly points out, _We’re being followed._

Frisk turns around in time to catch the briefest glimpse of a smiling yellow flower just before it dips into the earth.

“Flowey?” they call--but nobody comes. They shake the water from their feet, pull on their socks and shoes, and walk over to the spot where they saw him, but aside from the ground being kind of crumbly, there’s no sign he was ever there. If it weren’t for Chara, Frisk would have thought they’d just imagined it.

_I wonder what he wanted,_ they think.

_He’s been following us for a long time. Ever since the first timeline._

Dim recollections of very occasionally catching a glimpse of a smiling yellow flower filter back to Frisk. _Oh yeah._

_Watch your back, okay, Frisk? I don’t... I don’t actually get what he wants._

_What d’you mean?_

_I mean he talks a lot about ‘kill or be killed’ and he told me he was tired and just had one last thing he wanted to do together, but all of a sudden he got cold roots and wanted to stop. I thought I knew why, but after I reset, he gave us trouble for it. I don’t understand what he wants. I thought I understood him, but I don’t. I can’t help you with him._

Frisk doesn’t entirely understand what Chara’s talking about, so: _Why don’t we ask?_

_What--_

“Flowey?” they call again. “Floweyyy...”

_Hey, cut that out,_ Chara snaps. _What’re you going to do if he actually comes?_

_Ask him what he wants?_

_Are you for real??_

Frisk blinks in surprise. _Don’t you want to know, too? You know each other, don’t you? He’s been calling your name._

Bluish-gray smudges of discomfort smear up inside them. _I know he is,_ they murmur. _But--ugh, how do I explain this? I don’t want to explain this._

_Do you hate him?_ Frisk wouldn’t exactly blame Chara if they did, and it _was_ at Chara’s urging that they killed Flowey at the end of the first timeline--even if he came back right after when they tried to LOAD their SAVE to spare Asgore over again.

But the smudges only smear harder. _...it’s not that... Look, I didn’t say something because I want to talk to him, okay? I was just giving you a head’s up. Let’s just get going._

Frisk purses their lips, but Flowey hasn’t poked his head back up or responded in any way anyhow. It’s true they’ve got a ways left to go, too, and they’d also rather stay on good terms with Chara. They decide to let it go and move on.

Except the instant they turn around, a golden flower erupts from the ground in front of them with a ghastly black-eyed grin and whoops, “BOO!!”

Frisk emits a sound somewhere between a yelp and a shriek, falls flat on their butt, and scrabbles away a couple of feet.

Flowey cackles. “What’s the matter, Chara? Not as funny when you’re the one getting pranked?”

_Look! There he is calling your name again! Can’t you talk to him?_ they ask their companion as they clutch their chest. Chara doesn’t respond, though, so Frisk just pants.

It doesn’t take long for Flowey’s smile to strain. “C’mon, Chara, don’t be mad. I was just funning around. You’d have done the same to me and you know it. You spooked me last time too, remember? Haha... You always did get me good. But I know you were just kidding.”

Frisk takes a deep breath. When their pulse is under control, they let it out slowly, then sit upright. “Why’re you following me?” they ask, deciding to ignore the ‘Chara’ part. It’s always been easier to let people assume what they want.

Flowey’s smile fades away. “Is that a joke? I’ve been following you from the start.”

“I know.”

Flowey frowns. “You remember what I told you before, right?”

Frisk says nothing.

“So why’re you still playing nice?” he continues. “I know you. You must be bored of it by now.”

Frisk invites Chara to speak. Chara declines, so Frisk shrugs. “I’m having fun.”

Flowey scowls. “Are you serious?”

Frisk nods.

“Look, I know I heckled you over it, but I do get why you gave up on the last timeline. I never got past Sans, either,” Flowey grouses. “But seriously? _Seriously_? You slaughtered all those people, but it’s only _now_ you’re having fun?”

Frisk drops their gaze for a second in shame; then they look up and nod again.

“I don’t believe this,” he growls.

“Do you really like murdering that much?” Frisk murmurs.

Flowey stares at them. Then he bares another jagged, black-eyed leer. “I sure do! It’s a great way to KILL time!! Hee hee hee!” He holds the look for several seconds; when Frisk fails to react, he ticks over into a mildly peevish frown. “What’s the matter with you, Chara? I thought you’d love that one.”

Frisk checks in with their companion. Chara is not amused. They frown in thought, then wobble their hand and gives a thumb’s down.

“Oh, sure, you’ll laugh at the trashbag skeleton’s jokes, but mine aren’t good enough for you?” Flowey grumbles, leaves rustling. “Was it all the times he killed you? Is that it? Do I have to kill you MYSELF to get a reaction anymore?”

Setting aside the death threats (Frisk is a little concerned with how easy it’s become for them to do that), it’s a good question. Why _isn’t_ Chara amused? They like puns and it’s their type of humor. Chara, unfortunately, doesn’t offer an explanation.

“Why won’t you _answer_ me, Chara?” Flowey demands, frustrated.

Frisk folds their feet beneath them. “Are you really gonna kill me, Flowey?”

He hesitates, and his eyes dart away. “I-I wouldn’t really do that,” he stammers.

“You tried to before. You _did_ , two timelines ago.”

“I didn’t know it was you!!” he protests. “And you got me back, didn’t you? Give me a break, Chara!”

_So if you knew I wasn’t Chara, you’d try to kill me,_ Frisk translates. _Chara, can you please talk to him?_

But Chara doesn’t respond. Were it not for the persistent sense of their presence, Frisk would wonder if they were there at all.

_Chara?_ Frisk repeats. _Why don’t you want to talk to him?_

_Because I don’t. You were the one who called him. Why don’t_ you _talk to him?_

_Because he wants you._

_Well, I don’t want him!_

This strikes Frisk as incredibly sad, and they find they feel sorry for Flowey. Their mouth twists to one side and they scratch the side of their head.

“Chara?”

Frisk blinks at Flowey. The golden flower looks unusually chastised.

“Are you... still mad about what happened way back when?” he murmurs. “I said I was sorry... I know I was wrong now. I should’ve listened to you from the start. So why don’t we cut this charade out, huh?” His smile is plaintive, beseeching. “Come on... I just want to play with you. You’re the only one who’s any fun anymore. I... I miss you.”

Something agonized twists inside of Frisk, and it takes them a few seconds to realize it’s actually Chara’s feelings. They scoot closer, reach out to cup the flower’s calyx and gently stroke the back of his petals with the side of their thumb. Flowey flinches away at first, then looks between Frisk and their hand in a mix of concern and confusion. Then, slowly, his expression softens into an unfamiliar fanged face, and he shuts his eyes and relaxes into their touch. It touches Frisk in turn.

_He really loves you,_ they tell Chara.

Chara says nothing aloud, but the way their agony surges inside Frisk like the swell of ocean waves speaks volumes. A lump rises in their throat and their eyes well up, and Frisk can’t tell whose feelings are causing it. So they keep petting Flowey until they can get the tide under control, but it has a weird polarizing effect on the two of them: it helps calm Frisk down, but gets Chara even more upset.

_I could grab him,_ they whisper. _I could grab him now while he least suspects it and tear off all his petals. I could rip off his leaves and his head and leave him in a pile of parts. I could take out the knife and stab him until there’s nothing left but mulch._

Frisk, who has no knife on them and is feeling quite comfortable, replies, _I don’t think you really want to do that._

But Chara’s agitation grows. _Look at him. He trusts us. He trusts_ me _. What’s_ wrong _with him? He should have stayed scared of me! I’ve already gotten him killed twice!_

Something clicks in Frisk’s mind, and their hand stills. _Wait--_

“Chara?”

Thought interrupted, Frisk looks down at Flowey and meets his stare. They shake their head, deciding to leave it for now, and smile at him. Flowey hesitantly reflects the expression.

“What do you wanna play?” Frisk asks.

The effect is immediate. He holds himself straighter, smiles more sunnily, and quivers just a bit with anticipation as all doubt evaporates from him. “Aw, c’mon, Chara!” he chirps. “You already know the answer to that! The _real_ question is...” A malicious, toothy grin spreads across his face. “...who do you wanna kill first!?”

_Stop it._

Frisk shakes their head. Flowey peers at them, grin vanishing.

“What?”

“No killing,” Frisk says, gently but firmly. “What else do you wanna play?”

Flowey stares at them. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?” he says. “You really don’t want to kill anymore, do you?”

Frisk nods.

Flowey chuckles, but it’s a strained, pained thing. “Why’d you have to change the game on me again, Chara?” He glances away. “That’s not fair.”

_Stop it!_

“I’m sorry,” Frisk says. They smile gently. “What else do you wanna play, Flowey?”

At first, Flowey keeps sulking, stem bent over to one side. Then his expression clouds. “Wait a second.” He stares Frisk in the face. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Flowey’?”

Frisk stares back. They aren’t sure how to respond to this and Chara provides no hints.

Flowey smiles again. It’s bright and extremely brittle. “Hey... Call me by my _real_ name, Chara. Okay? Please?”

Frisk tilts their head. This is the first time they’ve had it even suggested to them that Flowey is not Flowey the Flower’s real name. They hesitate, and so does Chara.

They hesitate for too long. Flowey’s expression distorts into a twisted grimace.

“I don’t believe this,” he rasps. “Were you having fun looking down on me, you SICKO?”

Before they can protest, a small ring of tiny white bullets encircles Frisk’s body and begin to close in. They cry out as their SOUL emerges, but there’s nowhere to go to avoid the attack. When the bullets make contact, shredding away at their tiny amount of HP, they scream in pain, then drop to the ground.

“Did you think it was funny? HUH? Making me think you were Chara this whole time?!” Flowey jeers another circle of bullets forms and closes in on Frisk’s SOUL. “I _knew_ there was something weird going on. You must think you’re SO smart, tricking me like that!” Once again, the bullets shred through their HP, and once again, they scream, as Flowey continues, “Well, guess what, pal. JOKE’S ON YOU NOW.”

At the end of the assault, one HP remains in the tiny, fragile SOUL. Frisk pants, shaking, while Flowey glares at them with true loathing in his morbid eyes and rictor grin.

“I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you right now.” One last bullet circle materializes around the bright red heart. “DIE.”

“ _STOP IT!_ ”

Flowey shudders back at the force of the child’s words, and though the bullets don’t stop, they slow. It’s time enough to let a hand snake out and seize him by the stem. One squeeze, one yank, would be enough to rip him out of the dirt. He gapes as the human child shakily pushes themselves upright and glares right back at him through the veil of their dark bangs.

Through labored breaths, Chara hisses, “You _idiot_. Don’t you get I would’ve destroyed you too?!”

Mouth half-open, Flowey freezes. The bullets do not. In that instant, they make contact with the SOUL, and the little red heart cracks in two and shatters. Chara/Frisk’s eyes widen, and then as darkness envelopes them, they collapse.

_I don’t want to do this anymore,_ someone’s voice sobs. _Please, Chara! You have to stay determined...!_


	5. That's What I Want To Be

When Frisk wakes up, they’re all the way back in Waterfall. They’d been less than a minute away from the next SAVE point. They frown, then check in with their bodymate:

_Are you okay, Chara?_

_No._

That much, they must admit, was probably obvious. They call Papyrus, and sure enough, Undyne has only just arrived. After exchanging hellos anew, Frisk sets back to retracing their steps to Hotland--though this time, they’re more careful about glancing over their shoulder.

If Flowey is still following them, he’s a lot more discreet about it this time. Frisk doesn’t catch sight of him, even after they finally make it past the neon welcome sign at Hotland. There’s a lot they want to ask their companion, but they wait until they’re just outside Alphys’s lab to try.

_So, you and Flowey go back a long way, huh?_

_Mm._

_You love him too, don’t you?_

_Mmgh._

_That’s part of why you reset last time, wasn’t it?_

_Wha--?_

_You knew you’d end up hurting him, and you didn’t want that._

_I’ve already hurt him more than I can stand,_ Chara says miserably. _Why are you asking me this, Frisk? It won’t change the past. Nothing can._

_Because you’re my friend. I want to do something for you if I can._

Chara pauses, trailing cirrus-wisps of surprise. _You’re so good, Frisk. Sometimes I can’t believe how good you are._

Frisk sits down on the stairs perpendicular to the lab and scratches their now-warm cheek. They can’t say they agree, but it means a lot to them that Chara seems to think so. _So what’s Flowey’s real name, anyway?_

_He doesn’t have one. He doesn’t have a real anything._

_What? But he said--_

_He doesn’t. Have. A real. ANYTHING. Not anymore. I made sure of that,_ Chara spits. _Now I know you want to help, Frisk, and believe me when I tell you it means a lot, but I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to talk to Flowey. I don’t want to talk_ about _Flowey. I don’t even want to_ think _about him. We could reset a million times and it wouldn’t undo what I did to him, and telling you about it will just make it hurt worse. So let’s just keep moving, okay?_

Their voice cracks on the last word. Frisk doesn’t answer for a moment. They think they understand at least some of Chara’s hurt; it’s hard not to when Chara’s feelings often bleed over into theirs. They have a strong hunch it has to do with that other time Chara got Flowey killed. Frisk doesn’t remember all of the second timeline, but from what they do remember, in all their time together, Chara has only seen Flowey killed once: after Frisk beat Omega Flowey. If there was another time before all this when Chara and Flowey were friends, before either of them could reset or save, and they got him killed, and he still loves them... Frisk knows if it were them, they’d feel sick with guilt.

_Okay. Sorry,_ they murmur. _But if you ever change your mind and you want to talk about it, please let me know, okay? I promise I won’t get mad or yell at you or anything._

_...Maybe someday._

They nod. That’s good enough for them. They get up, save, and head over to the lab.

_Frisk?_

_Yeah?_

_Are_ you _all right?_

The question startles Frisk, and they hesitate as the lab door whooshes open. _Huh? Why?_

_I know what I just said, but--Flowey got really angry when he thought I wasn’t here. He’s already taken that out on you, but he’s not going to stop there. Doesn’t that scare you?_

_Yeah,_ Frisk admits. _But it’s not really any different from before. Besides, I feel bad for him. I’d like to help him too, if he’ll let me._

_Why?_

_Well... if I can help him, maybe he’ll stop trying to do bad things, and then everyone will be happier. But also because he’s important to you, and you’re important to me._

_...Frisk, you really are too good for words._

Frisk feels their face heat again. It’s kind of embarrassing to hear, but the more they hear it, the more it feels like it might really be true. Though the way before them is filled with gloom, they enter the darkness with a bright smile.

\---

Flowey watches from a careful distance, sneering, as the human child heads into Alphys’s lab. Just the sight of the horrible little brat makes him want to kill something. A lot of things, in fact. There’s a couple of somethings guarding the elevators up north--but no. Not now. No, the only way to go here to _really_ get revenge is to watch the kid’s enemies get stronger and stronger until they HAVE to fight back to stay alive. Then they’ll see this ~*no killing*~ garbage for what it is. And if they do manage to get all the way past Asgore without killing anyone?

Then they’ll have to deal with HIM again. And he won’t be so nice, now will he~?

The worst part about the little brat is, there really are some Chara-like parts about them. The last timeline, he’d thought for sure it was them, the way they killed everything in their path. That’s what Chara would’ve done, right? Flowey’s the same way these days. That’s what they tried to do on the surface when they went together a lifetime ago, so it had to be. And Flowey had been _so_ excited. Finally, finally, their best friend was back. They could finally be together. They could finally end this miserable world together and go to the surface. And he could finally make it up to them for what he did.

But that was all a delusion, and that kid-- _that kid_ \--they totally strung him along. Whether it was to mock him or pity him doesn’t matter; he won’t get fooled again. Just thinking about all the things he told them last timeline, how he let them touch him this timeline when even last time he got spooked away, fills him with rage. And maybe it’s better than the eternal lovelessness he otherwise feels, and maybe that’s got a little something to do with why he can’t stop following this kid, and maybe _that’s_ a tiny bit like how Chara and he used to be, but... But...

_You_ idiot _. Don’t you get I would’ve destroyed you too?!_

Flowey scowls at the memory, even as their phantom grip makes him squirm a little. Pfft. Whatever. They already killed him at the end of their first timeline, not that it did them any good. But the look in the kid’s eyes... it was _just_ like Chara when they got mad. It gave him a real shock, made him lose control of his magic; the killing blow had been on automatic. Because for a second before they died, he thought maybe they really were...

“That’s stupid,” he mutters to himself bitterly. “That’s how you got duped this whole time, IDIOT. But fool me once, right?” His mouth cracks apart into a morbid grin. “Hee hee hee hee... You’re gonna regret toying with _me_ , you little brat. You can’t even GUESS how much I’m going to make you suffer!!”

But even so, he keeps just hanging back, watching and waiting.

Because there’s still that one little seed of doubt.

\---

It’s a strange feeling to Frisk, knowing ahead of time that Mettaton’s attacks--the quiz show, the cooking channel--are all a charade and that Alphys purposely reactivated puzzles to help them through them. On the other hand, knowing the ruse for what it is makes them feel more sympathetic to Alphys, whom in the first timeline they’d liked but found difficult to understand at first. This time, they find themselves much fonder of her. They completely get wanting to feel helpful, wanting to feel useful. Chara’s less charitable.

_She_ used _us. If you make bad choices and do bad things, that makes you a bad person,_ they argue as Frisk solves a shooting puzzle. _That’s just how it is. You’re too nice, Frisk._

_Chara, do you think I’m dumb?_

_What? No. You might be a naïve chump, but you’re not_ dumb _. You solved that puzzle in like two turns. Why would you say that?_

Frisk scratches their cheek and decides to let the “naïve chump” comment go. _You said before that being nice and being dumb is the same thing._

Chara hesitates. _Well... I, uh..._

_Why did you think being nice and being dumb are the same thing?_

_...Because not everyone is nice back. It just gets you hurt._

_But if being nice gets you hurt, isn’t the only other thing to do is be bad?_

_Yeah... Yeah, it is._

_Then if you’re being bad and making bad choices because people have been hurting you, does that really make you a bad person?_

Chara doesn’t respond.

\---

Frisk is honestly not very fast or dextrous, but knowing that none of the bombs Mettaton planted are actually going to kill them helps a lot with keeping calm and getting the job done. They try not to laugh when Mettaton dramatically (and sarcastically) declares himself defeated by the “brilliant Dr. Alphys.” Chara urges them to clap the performance, but since they’re being sarcastic too, Frisk opts against it. Either way, they head on to the next area in a good mood.

At one point, they run into an odd gray person. They talk about a bunch of things Frisk doesn’t understand, mention a person they don’t know, and are gone when they leave, remember a question, and come back. Chara doesn’t know what’s up with that either, so they shrug it off.

When Alphys asks them later if they’d like to watch _Mew Mew Kissy Cutie_ with her sometime, they enthusiastically accept and shrug off her spoiler infodump. They’re not interested in the show so much as getting to be better friends with Alphys, anyway. Once the conversation is over and they’ve called up Papyrus and Undyne to chat (although their friends do most of the talking), they mull over something that’s been on their mind.

_You know, Chara,_ they say as they travel further towards the Core, _I’m starting to feel like... anyone can make mistakes. This might sound stupid, but I think sometimes people are hurt or scared or lonely or mad, and that makes them do bad things, but they aren’t bad people. And I know sometimes there are people who like to hurt people, but that doesn’t mean we have to be that way too._

_You’re including me in that, too? I killed a lot of people, you know. We both did._

_Yeah. And I feel bad about that. That’s not what I want to be. And I know you don’t want to be that anymore, either. We made mistakes, too. But we can fix them._

_What are you talking about?_

_Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about what we’ve been through together, and... what if the reason we have the power to reset is so we can figure out how to be better people?_

_Better how, exactly?_

_Well, you know... strong and kind. That’s what I want to be, anyway._

_Come again?_

_You know how supposedly the more LOVE you get, the stronger your SOUL becomes? I don’t think that’s really true. I think it takes a lot more strength to choose not to fight, even when you’re hurt or scared._

_...You think so?_

_You don’t think so?_

_I’ve been watching the way you handle fights._ Chara pauses. _Compared to the way I did it... you’re having so much more fun. Sometimes it’s annoying, but you’re making friends and doing neat things. I didn’t really pay attention to that the first timeline--I was too busy fighting with you over what to do. But once I got control, killing everything was so_ dull _. I had this idea that that was what I was meant to do, though, and I kept getting encouragement anytime I started to flag, so I kept doing it._

_Encouragement?_

_Yeah. Ha, not that I needed it,_ they add, and Frisk can almost see their self-deprecating smile. _If it weren’t for Sans, I’d have destroyed everything. All the monsters, all the rotten humans on the surface... this whole pointless world. I’m just bad by nature, Frisk._

_That’s not true,_ Frisk argues, though the mention of “encouragement” still puzzles them. _If you were really bad, you wouldn’t have felt bad and reset the last timeline._

_You sure are trusting. What if I only gave up because I got sick of losing?_

_That’s not what you said before. Anyway, I don’t think you’d be helping me as much as you are if that were true._

Chara hesitates. _Well--what if I hadn’t given up? What if I’d kept fighting Sans until I finally won?_

_I dunno, because that’s not what you did. I mean, you could have? But you didn’t. I think that’s important._

Chara is silent.

_You said before that I’m good, right?_

_Yeah..._

_I don’t really think I’m that good._

_Well, you are. Trust me._

_I do trust you. So can you trust me when I tell you you’re not bad?_

_I..._ Chara pauses for a long moment. _I don’t know if I can really believe that. But... it makes me happy to hear you think that about something like me._ They laugh a little. _You really are strong, Frisk. Maybe you were right after all._

This heartens Frisk, and they hop over steam vents with a sure-footed click-clack-clack to cross to the passageway out. _I know forgiving people doesn’t always work out great, but things are so much nicer when you give people a chance to be good._

_Are you still talking about me?_

Frisk grins a little. _Maybe._

_...Hehe. You really are too nice, Frisk. But..._

_Yeah?_

_I kind of like that about you._

Frisk blushes. When they hop off the last vent, they run, not walk, to the next puzzle.

\---

There are still monsters in the way. Pyrope loves getting the heat turned up, while Tsunderplane has to be approached just right, and Vulkin just wants to know they’re doing a good if deeply misguided job. Know how to handle them, and progress is easy. Still, it’s famishing work. Good thing they’d gotten a bunch of hot dogs(...?) and a hot cat from Sans’s stand earlier.

_It’s just a water sausage, you know,_ Chara points out as Frisk eats.

_It’s still good,_ Frisk replies, sitting on the edge of a land bridge and idly swinging their feet. _What, did you wanna eat something else?_

_I can’t actually taste anything while you’re in control, so it doesn’t matter._

_Oh._ Frisk considers this. _You wanna switch for a few and have a taste?_

_Nah, that’s okay. Ask me again after you’ve gotten your hands on some chocolate._

_You like chocolate?_

_I_ love _chocolate. Doesn’t everybody?_

_I like candy better._

_GET OUT._

_It’s my body, I can’t get out,_ Frisk points out while trying not to snort with laughter.

_I can’t believe I’m sharing a body with a chocolate-hater. This is sacrilege!_

_I didn’t say I_ hated _chocolate. Hot chocolate’s the best drink in winter._

_Well--fine, I guess that’s acceptable. Hot chocolate’s pretty great._

_Especially with lots of marshmallows!_

_Hehe. Okay, okay, I can forgive your bad taste in sweets now. As far as drinks go, though, I personally actually like tea better. The nice fruity, floral kinds. If you can believe it._

_Really?_

_Yeah. I didn’t always, but... well, I met someone who made a really good cup, with just the right amount of sugar. It made me a fan._

_Is that why the tea was the “blatantly right choice” at Undyne’s?_

_Maaaaaybe._ Chara’s voice turns wistful. _I wish I could have him make me another. Just one more cup. It was so good._

_Can you teach me how? I’ll make it for you._

_Me? Teach you?_ they utter, startled. _Haha... No, that’s okay. Don’t worry about it, Frisk._

Frisk pops the last of the hot dog(...?) in their mouth, chews, and swallows. _Then I’ll keep an eye out for some chocolate for you instead,_ they say as they push back from the edge and rise to their feet. _If we can find any, it’s all yours, Chara._

_...That sounds great,_ their companion replies, and they sound much happier now.

\---

In the first timeline, Muffet had been a terrible foe. This time, Frisk immediately stuffs their face with a spider donut and walks out unscathed when she spares them in apology. A while after that, Guards 01 and 02 stop them, first out of concern, then to attack. Frisk’s response is to encourage the two of them to realize their true feelings for one another. They’re delighted when it works. Even Chara is impressed.

_I wish I’d known someone like you before, Frisk,_ they say after the guards have gone.

_Before what?_

_Before I came to Mt. Ebott._

_You came to Mt. Ebott too? Why?_

_Probably for the same reasons you did._

Frisk slows to a halt as they approach Mettaton’s musical stage. All of a sudden, a whole lot of puzzle pieces click into place.

_Oh,_ they utter. Then: _Have you... known for a while?_

_I figured it out a while ago. How do you think I guessed your favorite was_ Matilda _?_

Frisk clasps their hands in front of their chest. Upon reflection, knowing this about Chara--even if they lack details--explains so much about them that they want to cry. Instead, they ask, _Do you wanna talk about... you know, you?_

_...No. But... maybe someday._

That, too, is good enough for Frisk.

\---

For all that Chara had tried to memorize the functions of the various colored tiles from Papyrus’s woe-begotten puzzle, when Mettaton lays it on them, they quickly find they’ve forgotten almost all of it. Fortunately, both of them are perfectly aware that it really doesn’t matter if they solve the puzzle or not. After Frisk thanks Alphys for her “help,” they move on, pausing to wish 01 and 02 well as they clean out the Nice Cream Guy’s supply.

_Chara... Thank you,_ Frisk says as they watch the two lovey-dovey guards with a fond smile. _For trusting me, I mean._

_What’re you talking about, all of a sudden?_

_You never used to talk to me about yourself or ask me about myself. We didn’t really get along like we do now, either. I know I still don’t know a lot about you, but I feel like I understand you much better now, and, um... I feel more like you care about me._

_I... I think I do care about you,_ Chara utters, radiating a halo of startled surprise. _I’ve never cared about a human before._

_Really? But we’re friends now, aren’t we?_

_Yeah, but--well, there’s never been a human who cared about me._

I _do._

_Yeah... I know._ Chara pauses. _...Thanks, Frisk._

Frisk glows.

\---

Past that point is MTT Resort--and outside it, seemingly just hanging out, is Sans. Frisk slows as they see him, remembering the conversation they had in the first timeline. That wasn’t the first time they’d gotten an inkling that there was anything off about Sans, but it was the first time they’d felt threatened by him. Of course, he’d immediately laughed it off, but even so... He catches their eye, winks, and raises a hand in greeting. Frisk smiles and waves back, then starts to head for the hotel doors.

_Hey, Frisk?_

_Yeah?_

There’s a sound of a deep breath taken and slowly let out. _You wanted to tell Sans the truth, right? About us? And the resets?_

Frisk falters. _Chara, are you...?_

_Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s tell him the truth._

Frisk stands a little straighter. They still don’t know all the details of what happened between Chara and Sans last timeline beyond that they fought, but they do know that Chara has been afraid of him ever since they reset. For Chara to say this now... They trot inside quickly to SAVE, then leave immediately. Sans is still there, and they tap him on the shoulder.

“Hey, buddy, welcome back,” he says, grinning over at them. “I heard you’re going to the Core. How about grabbing some dinner with me first?”

Frisk smiles and nods firmly, then follows him in his shortcut to the hotel restaurant. They’re nervous, to be sure, even without bleed from Chara’s feelings, but... this will be another step forward to making a better ending. That alone fills them with determination.


	6. Just How Bad Were You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Lazy Rabbit for her great chapter 6 fanart [here](http://lazy-rabbit.tumblr.com/post/134403735229)!

It was awful nice of Sans to reserve a table for the two of them at the hotel restaurant. Frisk just wishes he’d reserved some food and drinks and plates and cutlery, too. It’s probably just as well, since they’re not sure they’d be able to pay for both of them like Sans had joked. (They’re pretty sure he was joking.) They sit down together at the other end of his shortcut at the table, a whole lot of no dinner between them, and look at him.

They’ve heard Sans’s story before. They remember how Chara had gotten very quiet during it, when he’d talked about the woman behind the door (obviously Toriel, though Frisk hadn’t told him that at the time) and how they traded puns and jokes from either side of it. They also remember his question about whether what they have to do is really worth the food, friends, and fun they have down here, and while last time Chara had scoffed, this time it seems to leave them contemplative. Frisk isn’t sure of the answer, either. All they know is that they have to keep moving forward. It’s what’s kept them going them all this time.

They also remember how he’d told them that were it not for his promise with Toriel, they would be dead where they stand. It had disturbed Frisk at the time. Now, they wonder if he means that without him watching out for them, they wouldn’t have survived this long. They feel like they’d rather not know the answer for sure.

“Hey, relax, bucko. I was just kidding,” he’s saying. He gets up--Frisk remembers this is the end--and they get up too, slapping their hands on the table in their rush. He raises a brow ridge at them. “I didn’t freak you out _that_ bad, did I?” He peers at them, then adds, “No, you’ve got this expression like... maybe that material was a little stale for you.”

Frisk nods.

“Really?”

Frisk nods again.

“You got something fresh for me, then?”

Frisk hesitates. _Do you want to talk to him, Chara?_

_Who,_ me _? Seriously?_

_Don’t you want to apologize to him?_

_W-well, I... Frisk, what would I even say? ‘Sorry about murdering everyone in the Underground last timeline’? ‘Thanks for slaughtering me thirteen times in a row to make me give up on destroying the world’?_

Frisk’s jaw drops. _Thirteen times?!_

_I could’ve gone around more, I guess, but by then I was really tired of trying. Besides..._

“You all right there, kid?” Sans wonders, eyeing them.

Frisk waves both hands side to side, then sits back down. They point at the chair opposite them and give Sans a firm nod.

“Wow, pretty forceful. Well, I can take a hint.” He sits back down. “What’s eating you, buddy?”

Frisk purses their lips and balls their hands in their lap. “I have to tell you something,” they murmur.

“I’m all ears,” Sans says, cupping a hand around a distinct and total lack of ear.

They smile, a chuckle in their chest. A deep breath helps calm them down more; then they sit up straight.

“You know about the resets,” they say.

Sans stares at them. “Wow,” he utters. “Straight to the point. We, uh, haven’t had this conversation already, have we?”

Frisk shakes their head.

“Guess it’s just who you are, then. You’re right. I do know about the resets. But you already knew that, too.”

Frisk nods.

“Can I ask you something, kid? With the disclaimer that I’m pretty sure I won’t like the answer.”

Frisk tilts their head.

“How many times have you reset now?”

Frisk holds up three fingers, then after conferring internally, pulls down one.

“Twice, huh? So this is your third go-around?”

They nod.

Sans’s brow ridges furrow. “Huh. I could’ve sworn it was more than that.” He eyes them. “A _lot_ more.”

“It’s not just me.”

“Ah. I see. That explains a lot, actually.” Sans leans back in his chair and stares into the middle distance for several seconds. Then he refocuses on them. “And, uh... how many more people have the reset power like you...?”

Frisk shakes their head. “I’m the only one now.”

“ _Ah_. So basically, there used to be more, but now you’ve got a monopoly. Is that right?”

They nod.

“Oh, boy,” Sans groans.

“It was just the one,” Frisk adds.

“Wait, so you mean there’s only been two total, you included?”

Nod.

“Well, that’s something, at least.” Sans rubs his skull. “So... and don’t get me wrong, kid, I appreciate you finally owning up, but... why now? What changed?”

The child takes another deep breath and slowly lets it out. They confer again with their companion and come to a decision. Then they open their eyes and stare Sans down.

“I did,” says Chara.

Sans stares back.

“I don’t know what good telling you all this will do,” they continue. “But after the journey up until now, I decided it was worth taking a chance to tell you the truth.”

Sans keeps staring.

“You can think of it as a... a token of goodwill,” they add, reciting the words as if from memory.

Sans doesn’t stop staring.

“This is your cue to say something,” Chara prompts, a touch desperately.

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” Sans pauses. “Who are you?”

A ripple of shock courses through the child like the onset of an earthquake. They don’t answer.

Sans waits a moment just to be sure. “If you don’t want to say, that’s your choice,” he says eventually. “But it’s pretty clear whoever you are, you’re not who I was just talking to.”

Chara’s lips thin into a frown. “What makes you think that?”

“Don’t kid a kidder, kid. The way you sit, the way you talk, how _much_ you talk, your expressions, the look in your eyes... Tally ‘em all up, and, well--” He winks his right eye shut. “The _eyes_ have it.”

Chara averts their gaze. “I’m not your enemy,” they say, then add in a mutter, “anymore.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh. Because I’m pretty sure I heard you say ‘anymore,’ which would imply we _were_ enemies at one point.”

_This is going all wrong, Frisk,_ Chara hisses, sweating. _Let’s load and try again._

_You don’t know that, Chara,_ Frisk reassures them. _Let’s see where this goes first, OK? It could still go all right._

Chara fidgets but decides to trust them. They square their shoulders to project confidence. “Don’t be like that,” they tell Sans, forcing a slight smile. “You told me yourself last time you were secretly hoping that we could be friends.”

Sans doesn’t look impressed, but he does scratch his cheekbone with one finger. “True,” he admits. “And the kid’s making lots of friends this time around, too.” He smiles and shrugs. “Heck, the two of us are pretty chummy. We’ve seen each other around plenty, right? And we’ve always had a good time. Right?”

Chara’s smile brightens.

“...So I gotta wonder why I would’ve told you I was ‘secretly hoping we could be friends’ if we weren’t friends already.”

Chara’s smile freezes.

“I wonder,” Sans continues, “why I would’ve told YOU that, instead of the kid who’s been going around befriending everybody.”

Chara’s smile twitches.

“I can’t help but think, if I was talking to _you_ , and we were enemies at the time...” Sans tilts his head forward. “You must’ve been a _real_ bad kid.”

Chara’s smile dies.

“Level with me--whoever you are,” Sans says, eyes narrowed. “Just how bad were you?”

_Frisk, this was a bad idea. Let’s load._

_No. Things are different now,_ Frisk says firmly. _What we did last timeline won’t change no matter how many times we load now, but if we tell Sans the truth, he should understand. I hope._

_Then can you change places with me? I don’t want to answer this question._

_OK._

Frisk slumps a little. Chara holds themselves way too tense. They rub their face. “Um...”

“Oh, hey. Welcome back, kid,” Sans says, relaxing back into his seat too. “Something you wanna say?”

Frisk twists their mouth in thought, then gives a little side-shrug, then nods. “Sorry,” they murmur. “For everything.”

Sans considers the apology. “That makes it sound,” he says slowly, “like whatever your pal was up to, you were in on it.”

Frisk hangs their head in shame.

He watches them, then breathes a slight sigh. “Let me just ask you one thing, kiddo. Is this all just a game to you?”

They shoot their head up and shake it emphatically. Lesser Dog wouldn’t have shaken his head that much if he’d extended it all the way to Waterfall.

Sans relaxes and slips into an easygoing smile. “Good to hear. I might’ve started looking out for you because of a promise, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you personally. It’d hurt my feelings if it turned out you were just messing around.”

Frisk feels their face grow hot, and they smile bashfully and rub their head.

“But,” he adds, smile dimming, “that means I got another question.” He waits for Frisk to tilt their head at him. “Why did you reset those last two times?”

Frisk frowns, eyebrows furrowing. After a moment of conference, they hold up their index finger and shut their eyes. When those eyes open again, the child sits up a little straighter.

“That’s a complicated story,” says Chara, “and they don’t like talking too much at once.”

“Do you two do that a lot? The whole... body-switching thing?”

“Nope! I thought you would’ve realized that, Sans.” Chara smiles. It’s glittery and bright, like a rainbow through a pile of broken glass. “Since ‘the _eyes_ have it’ and all.” They let their smile abate when Sans eyeballs them with right eye shut. “The short version is that in our first timeline, neither of us were really sure of what was going on. We had a lot of disagreements and struggled against each other a lot. There _was_ one thing at the end we agreed on--but we couldn’t make it happen.”

They frown a little, thinking back. They’d just killed Flowey and loaded their SAVE to spare Asgore again, this time without Flowey’s interference. But it didn’t... work out. Chara’s eyes hood as they peer down at the table, hands curling into fists in their lap.

“Because of that, in the second timeline, I won a big argument from the get-go, and we started doing it my way.” Chara leans back in their chair and makes a thin and ironic smile. “But towards the end, there was this roadblock I couldn’t get past, no matter what.”

_If we’re really friends, you won’t come back._

They glance away and chew on their lower lip. That entire moment is still vivid in their memories, up to and including Sans brutally murdering them when their guard was down and yelling at them to “get dunked on.” They’ve come to see it as mostly pretty funny, but right now they’re not laughing. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right to tell Sans about it--like if they did, it’d be manipulative of them. Better not to get into details, they decide.

“...so I gave up and reset, and now we’re doing it their way. End of story,” Chara concludes, sweeping a hand to one side in a dismissive gesture.

“I see.” Sans appears to consider this for a few seconds; then his eyesockets blank out. “And that roadblock was me, wasn’t it?”

Chara makes a noise of frustration/irritation. Why does he have to be so perceptive? “Yup,” they reply, deciding to toss aside their attempts at subtlety. If he wants to judge, then let him judge, they tell themselves bitterly. “Good thing you’re so good at your job, huh?”

Sans peers at them with narrowed eyes. “Let me talk to the kid for a few.”

Still frowning, Chara shuts their eyes; when the child lifts their face again, it’s with a bleary squint and a slight, inquisitive head-tilt.

“Huh. So they really will step aside, just like that. You two seem on pretty good terms with each other now. You sorted out your, uh, differences?”

Frisk nods and offers a tentative smile.

“Don’t you get worried that your buddy is gonna want to start killing again and you’ll, uh, get into another ‘argument’?”

Frisk shakes their head.

“Why not?”

It’s such a broad question, they reflect, for one that’s only two words long. There’s a lot of ways and words they could put into answering, but they decide on: “They want to be better. Me, too.”

Thoughtful, Sans nods. “You’re doing a good job so far.”

Frisk smiles warmly. Inside them, Chara radiates a dark pink embarrassment.

“One last question for you, kiddo,” he says. “Let’s say you get to the barrier and you’ve made friends with everybody--no death, no violence, none of that. If you’re satisfied with how it ends, does that mean you won’t reset anymore?”

They nod once, firmly.

“Can I hold you to that?”

This time, Frisk hesitates.

_What should I say? Flowey might make us have to reset again._

_I don’t know. I don’t think there’s a good answer here,_ Chara admits. _We’ll have to deal with Flowey eventually, but I don’t know how we can... overcome him. He comes back as soon as we load and take all the SOULs with him. It might take a few more tries before we figure out something that sticks._

So Frisk murmurs, “Sorry.”

Sans doesn’t answer. The disappointment in his face does all the talking for him.

The child opens their eyes, frowning. “That’s not something we can promise for reasons we can’t get into right now,” Chara says. “But... I can tell you something else to make up for it.”

“If you reset again, I won’t remember it,” Sans points out. “It’d have to be pretty amazing to make up for that.”

“Oh, it is,” Chara reassures him, smiling slightly. “It’s the secret behind the anomaly. The reason we can reset at all. You want to know--right?”

_That_ gets his attention. It gets Frisk’s, too.

_Wait, you know why we can reset? Why? How?_

_Shh. You’ll understand at the end of this story._

“Lay it on me,” says Sans.

“It’s a long story,” Chara warns him. “You’re sure you want to hear it all?”

“I sure am.”

“It could take a while. The restaurant could turn the lights off on us first.”

Sans winks. “Then don’t leave me in the dark here, pal. Enlighten me.”

“Pfft. Okay.” They puff out a breath and turns a thoughtful look towards the ceiling. “It’s hard to figure out how to begin... There isn’t really a clean starting point. I guess... I’ll go with the garden. A lot of things tie back there.

“There’s a certain garden somewhere in this world. It’s filled with flowers for decoration and herbs for cooking. Back when I had my own body, I played there with my friend a lot. But even though some of the plants you could eat... others were poison.” They glance away and chuckle. “I should’ve stuck with the edible ones. The safe ones, you know? The ones I knew for sure were okay. Maybe if I’d done that, none of this would’ve happened.” Chara looks back up. “But I didn’t. I wanted to play a joke on my friend, and I ended up making a big mistake.

“We made a pie for his dad. The recipe called for ‘a cup of butter.’ I thought it would be funny if I told my friend you could substitute that with ‘buttercups.’”

“That’s a pretty good pun.”

Chara smiles sourly. “I thought so, too. I thought we’d just get a gross pie and we’d all have a laugh. I didn’t know buttercups give your insides blisters.”

“...Yeah, that’d spoil a prank for sure.”

_So that’s what you meant by a disaster,_ Frisk murmurs. _Did your friend’s dad...?_

“He survived,” Chara clarifies. “But...” They falter. Their eyes flick down towards the table. “...to make a long story short, I didn’t.” They swallow hard. “And neither did my friend.”

It’s not exactly an accurate representation of the truth, even if Chara isn’t exactly lying, either. But while this part of the story is important, they find the more of it they tell, the less they really want to get into it. The end result is the same, anyway, even if the process differs.

“It makes you laugh, doesn’t it? You have to laugh,” they continue, chuckling bitterly. “If only we’d decided to make a quiche instead of a pie. If only I’d picked herbs instead of flowers.” They’re silent for a moment longer, and then slowly, gently rest their head down on the table.

“Uh. You okay there?”

“Nope,” Chara replies, staring at the wall. “End part one. I’ll tell you the rest later.”

Sans chuckles and doesn’t press the matter, which is the best possible reaction Chara could have hoped for. “...A quiche, huh.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I think I’m starting to get the picture. It’s all about wishing you could change the past, huh? Trust me, I get the feeling.”

“The last you said something like that, too,” Chara muses, picking at the tablecloth with a fingernail. “You ‘gave up on going back a long time ago.’ I had to ‘learn how to QUIT’ like you did. You didn’t go into too many details, though. You don’t like talking about yourself much, I guess. Something we have in common.”

“Gotta say, I’m not too thrilled about having anything in common with a serial murderer.”

Chara lifts their head to frown at Sans. “What? I haven’t killed anyone this timeline.”

“What? Sure, but you said it yourself: it’s ‘your way.’” Sans grimaces. “What you did last timeline... if it was bad enough to get _me_ to fight you--well. I don’t need to say it, do I? What I’m getting at is: if it were just you in that body, you wouldn’t have ever spared anyone, would you?”

Chara scowls. “I might have,” they snap. “I probably would have. If it were _just_ me.”

“‘Might’ and ‘probably’ aren’t too reassuring,” Sans replies. He extends his arms in a shrug. “Hey, I’m not trying to give you a hard time here. Well--not too much of one. I decided to trust the kid. But...” He stares down at Chara. “You’re a different story.”

“What do you want from me, Sans?” they demand. “I didn’t _have_ to show myself to you. I didn’t _have_ to tell you anything. I didn’t _have_ to reset. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Buddy, if you really think that’s ‘enough,’ you don’t know me as well as you think you do. And, to be honest with you? ‘I didn’t have to reset’ is, uh, the exact opposite of trust-inspiring when the reason you reset was because you got sick of fighting me.”

_Chara, let’s switch back,_ Frisk says. _You’re getting upset._

And Frisk is right, but Chara is stubborn. They glare at Sans and don’t respond.

“Look. Kid. Other-kid. I’m not gonna pretend I know what your reasons were. Heck, maybe you even have some understandable ones. I don’t know. And I’ll admit, you do seem like you’re on the level right now. _But_.” He leans forward, elbow on the table. “So far, I’ve got no reason to think that your reasons for quitting had anything to do with me or anyone as a person. If you’re only going along with the kid befriending everybody because you ‘want to see what happens’... well, there’s no guarantee we won’t have ourselves another bad time one day, and the prospect doesn’t exactly tickle me pink.” He leans back. “That’s all I’m saying.”

_Chara, let me talk to him,_ Frisk insists. _You’re not--_

_Don’t talk down to me! I can handle this myself!_

“Is this about Papyrus?” they demand. When Sans stares at them, visibly taken aback, they conclude, “It is, isn’t it? You’re holding a grudge because I killed him last time. Well, he’s not dead _now_ , so what do you care?”

He holds a hand out palm-forward; with his jacket sleeve, it’s a blue stop sign if either of them has ever seen one. “Let’s just end the conversation right here.”

Unfortunately, Chara is too aggravated to yield to the right of way. “Why should we? You got to say whatever _you_ wanted to say.”

_Chara, please stop,_ Frisk begs.

“You know what you did after I killed him? _Absolutely nothing_ ,” Chara continues, ignoring them. “You knew I was dangerous. I know you knew because you went out of your way to threaten me. But you didn’t stop me, and you didn’t come after me until it was too late and everyone else was already dead. You didn’t even _come after_ me; you just planted yourself in my way. And you think you can just sit there and lecture me?”

“Other-kid, you need to stop,” Sans says flatly, eyesockets black.

“I _did_ stop, and that apparently isn’t good enough for you! What about _you_ , Sans? Why’s it take so much to get you to do anything at all? Is a promise you made to some lady whose name you don’t even know worth more to you than your own brother’s life? How much could Papyrus really matter to you, then?”

“Kid. _Stop_.”

“Oh, are you _mad_? Then why don’t you mow me down with your lasers? Not that it’ll do you any good, because once you’ve taken me out, I’ll just load my SAVE and you’ll have forgotten this entire fight happened,” Chara snarls, wielding words like a live blade. “Face it, Sans. You can kill me, but you can’t _stop_ me. You can NEVER--”

_STOP. CHARA. PLEASE. STOP._

Chara cuts themselves off in mid-sentence with an abbreviated gasp, and they drop their stare to their lap. Without realizing it, their hands have balled so hard that their nails are cutting into their palms. The child takes a deep breath and hangs their head as they let it out until their hair has veiled their face from view. When they look back up, their eyes are brimming with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Frisk whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

Tension holds Sans’s frame taut for a few seconds longer, even as he shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets. Then he breathes out a sigh of his own, and his body relaxes with it. He rolls up to his feet and away from the table.

“Thanks for stepping in, kiddo,” he says, demeanor casual, smile affable. “Wish you’d done it sooner, admittedly, but hey, we both said more than we should’ve. Must’ve been real awkward for you.”

Frisk shakes their head, sniffling, and rubs at their eyes with the butt of their palm.

“Hey, chin up, buddy. It wasn’t your fault,” Sans says soothingly, strolling over to tousle their hair. It helps Frisk feel a little better and Chara a little worse. “Actually, it takes a real load off my mind knowing you can shut the other kid down if you have to. But, uh...” He tucks his hand back into his pocket. “Do me a favor?”

Frisk looks up, eyelashes still damp, and tilts their head.

Sans’s eyes have blanked out again. “ _Don’t ever let me see their face again_.”

Frisk sniffles and doesn’t respond. It’s not, they think, the kind of thing that really needs a response. The moment soon passes, and the dots of light return to Sans’s sockets.

“Welp, see you around, kiddo,” he says, nodding to them farewell. “Take care of yourself, all right? Because there’s someone out there who really cares about you.”

They nod back and manage a smile, and watch as the skeleton saunters off in the opposite direction of the restaurant’s only entrance/exit. A blink later, and he’s gone. Frisk pats their cheeks twice to rejuvenate themselves, then slips out of their own chair and moves to leave.

_I’m an idiot,_ Chara says in a small voice. _I’m such an idiot. Why do I always have to mess everything up? I should’ve listened to you, Frisk._

_Yeah, you should’ve._

_...Oh. I guess you’re mad at me too, huh._

_A little. I’m trying not to be. Next time, please give me my body back when I ask._

_Yeah. Okay. I’d better not switch in at all anymore. Sans is right; I can’t be trusted._

_Chara, it’s okay,_ Frisk reassures them. _Just... when I tell you to stop, please stop, okay?_

They don’t reply, but Frisk doesn’t get the sense that it’s because they’re rejecting what they say. They chat around with the other monsters in the restaurant, who fortunately are either very discreet or incredibly uninterested in other people’s conversations. They give Papyrus and Undyne a call, too, and try Toriel’s number despite knowing she won’t pick up. They both are and aren’t disappointed. Then they head into the hotel proper and for the glittering SAVE point.

_Frisk, can we please load after all?_ Chara blurts out.

They slow down and nearly slip in the fountain water on the floor. _Huh?_

_I... I wanted to tell him that story. Even if I couldn’t get all of it out today. If we leave things like this, I’ll never get the chance to. Please?_

And Frisk thinks about it. When Chara gets this humble, they know it’s because it really matters to them, and despite how they tore into Sans, they seem more upset with themselves than him now. Plus, they want to hear the rest of that story. They had no idea Chara knew the truth behind their powers, and they really want to know it too. But...

_Do you want to be Sans’s friend?_ they wonder.

_I-is that weird?_

_No, no!_ They pause. _Well... maybe? I don’t know. But if you really want to be his friend, we shouldn’t load. It’s not right to erase his memories so we can get what we want._

Chara is silent for a moment. Then, miserably: _You’re right. Why do you always have to be right, Frisk?_

It’s probably not a question that Chara actually wants answered, but it makes Frisk uncomfortable anyway. Sans had asked them if they would have spared anyone if it’d been just them, and while Frisk knows they did do the right thing eventually, they do have to wonder about their decision-making abilities in a vacuum.

Wait--in a vacuum? Something Chara told them recently comes back to them, and they utter, _Oh! That reminds me. Can I ask you something?_

_What?_ they say wearily.

_You said last timeline you were getting encouragement... Who were you talking about?_

_What? Is that supposed to be a joke? Sorry, I’m not in a laughing mood._

_No, I’m serious. Who was encouraging you?_

_The third one, duh. Who else?_

_Who... huh? The third what?_

_You know. The third one? In here? In your head?_

Frisk cannot actually see Chara, them being a presence inside their body, but they stare blankly all the same. _What?_

Irritation flickers like little red embers. _Frisk, don’t play dumb. I told you I’m not in the mood. The third one. They help us with dealing with monsters and stuff. I know you know Them._

But Frisk doesn’t stop staring. _I’ve only ever heard you._

_Wha--that’s--that’s not funny, Frisk,_ they reply, and Frisk can hear a note of panic in their mental voice. _They’ve been affecting you, too. You have to know They’re here! Come on, You say something too!_

Frisk hears a whole lot of nothing.

_Um... are you okay, Chara?_ they wonder dubiously.

The shift from panic to anger is lightning-quick: _Are you trying to call me a liar?!_

It’s such a big jump in logic that Frisk thinks at first that they’re addressing this mysterious third entity. A couple seconds pass before they utter, _Wait, do you mean me?_

_Of course I mean you!!_

_I didn’t say you were_ lying _, just..._

_You just don’t believe me!_

Frisk doesn’t respond to this, but that’s response enough in and of itself, and they both know it. They feel Chara’s upset and fury intensify.

_Come on! Say something! Don’t make me look like a liar! ...Come **on**! I _ know _You’re there, You’re ALWAYS there!_ they demand, presumably of the mystery third presence.

_Chara, calm down, okay? You’re still upset,_ Frisk says.

_**Don’t tell me to calm down!!** Don’t--! Don’t... don’t..._ They sob angrily. _You’re all the same. Fine! Just forget it! You’re better off without me anyway!!_

_Chara--_

It’s like the sudden blip of a TV turning off. Chara’s presence doesn’t vanish, exactly, but it zips out and fades until there’s nothing but a soft, faint static. It disturbs Frisk. This is the first time this has ever happened, and they still don’t understand what Chara was talking about.

_Hello?_ they call. No answer. _H-hello? Chara? Anyone?_

They look around. The hotel lobby still has several grumpy monsters waiting to be housed as they wait for the elevator to be fixed. The lights are still a little too bright, and the Mettaton sculpture still spits water onto the floor rather than inside the fountain. The SAVE point still glitters in front of it, and the doorway to the Core still looms past the reservation desk. It should all be the same.

But it’s different. For the first time in a long time, Frisk is well and truly alone. And as this fact dawns on them, their pulse begins to race.

_Chara? Chara, please answer. Chara? Chara? Charaaa?_

It’s just because they’re upset about Sans, they have to tell themselves. They’ll come back soon. They’ve never left their side before, even back when Frisk had really wanted them to.

They take several deep breaths to calm themselves and clear their mind. Chara’s presence still lingers, so that’s something. They just need some time to cool off and calm down and they’ll be right back, and Frisk can apologize for... they’re not exactly sure what. The idea that there’s a third person in their head that they’re totally unaware of affecting their choices and decisions is more disturbing than they can describe, but they still don’t feel anyone but Chara. They want to be comforted by this, but they’re not.

_I just have to keep moving forward,_ they think. _It’ll be okay. Chara will come back, and we’ll talk it over, and it’ll be okay._

Their hands shake as they touch the SAVE point, and they almost back out at the last second. Once it’s over, they don’t feel better. They try not to think about what they’ll do if Chara leaves them for good. For now, they’ll just have to get by on pure determination.


	7. I'm Sure It'll Work Out

Frisk isn’t having a good time.

Of course, they’ve experienced Alphys finding her maps changed without warning before, and they know it’s Mettaton’s doing, though they avoid telling her so. But as she freaks out a little more, they feel themselves doing the same. They nearly get killed by Madjick; past experience and knowing what to do is what sees them through. And the monsters are all so _strong_ , and Frisk has hardly any HP. A couple times, they catch themselves wondering if fighting back, if killing something would call Chara back--but no, no, they can’t. They have to be better, for both their sakes. For _everyone’s_ sakes. No matter how scared they are.

“I’m sorry,” Alphys eventually admits, all but in tears. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Frisk hugs their phone to their ear. “Me neither,” they murmur.

“But! I’m supposed! To be helping you? And I’m not!”

“You’re here,” they whisper. “That helps a lot.”

“Ehe... ehehe...” Despite the weakness of her laugh, Frisk can almost hear her starting to smile, however awkwardly. “Y-you’re right. Now’s not the time for bellyaching! I-I’ll do my best! W-we can... we can figure this out together!”

“Yes,” Frisk says, and thinks of Chara. Their presence is still there, but no matter how much they call, they don’t come. It’s like they went back to their room and put on headphones at full blast. Frisk wonders, for the hundredth time, what they’ll do if they don’t come by the time they get to Mettaton.

“Alphys?” they say.

“Um, yes?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“S-sure! You can count on me! I’ll get you past that dumb ol’ robot! I promise!”

Frisk smiles and leans their head to one side as if to hug their phone. “Then... we can watch _Mew Mew_... right?”

“Omigod! You’re right!!” Alphys squeals. It’s like Frisk had flipped a switch, and they grin to hear the instant cheer in her voice. “You can’t go home until we’ve watched it together! I-it’s a hike back to the lab but you’ve already solved all the puzzles so it’ll be easy and there’s the elevators and you know the way by now and I can make ramen for both of us and oh my god _Mew Mew_ is kind of long to watch in one sitting WHAT IF YOU GET TIRED???? Um! Um! I’ll get out a futon, and! You can lie down! If you have to! Or if I have to! And you can... experience it? At your own pace?? OH MY GOD I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TO WATCH _MEW MEW KISSY CUTIE_ WITH ME SO WE CAN TALK ABOUT IT FOREVER!!!!”

Frisk suppresses a giggle. _Hey, I wonder what’s the difference between the anime version and the video game version,_ they wonder. _Mettaton said there was a game, remember?_

No one answers. Their smile dims.

“Um...” they start.

“U-um. Ehehe. Y-yes?”

“Do... do you have any chocolate?”

“Huh? Um, no. I could pick some up, though? If you want?”

Frisk smiles and nods. When they remember Alphys can’t see them, they add, “Please.”

“O-okay! Ramen and chocolate and _Mew Mew_! It’ll be amazing!”

Ramen and chocolate and _Mew Mew_. It’s something to look forward to.

_You hear that, Chara?_ they call. _There’ll be chocolate. Your favorite!_

No answer.

“A-anyway! Let me... I’ll just... I’m going to get back to figuring out the way! I’ll call you back soon, o-okay?”

Frisk makes a noise of agreement. They pause, then add, “Um... Alphys?”

“Hmm?”

“Um... I hate talking on the phone, too.” They pause again, then hold the phone a little tighter. “So, um... thank you. For doing most of it.”

“Oh, uh, ehehe... A-anytime! I guess??”

When they each hang up, they stare at their phone for a minute. Then they take a deep breath and keep making their way through the Core.

They get lost a couple of times. The hallways don’t really look the same, but Frisk has always had a bad sense of direction. It’s what makes exploring so much fun, because it’s not like they have a real home to worry about getting back to anyway. It makes them realize how much they rely on Chara’s familiarity with the Underground.

Why _are_ they so familiar with the Underground, anyway?

\---

There’s more puzzles. There’s always more puzzles. Frisk doesn’t mind them--quite the opposite--but when they stare down the shooting puzzle that they’ve already solved before, they find their vision swimming a little. They call Papyrus, knowing that reception is poor and the phone probably won’t connect, but to their delight, he picks up by the end of the second ring.

“Human!!! Your call got through!! And you’re okay! Wowie!!” he greets them with. “Are you almost to Mettaton’s next jape?? Undyne and I have been eagerly awaiting your next adventure on TV! They’re so exciting!!”

“Heck yeah!” shouts Undyne’s voice from so close by that Frisk has to imagine her yelling in Papyrus’s lack-of-ear. “You kick that tin can into next week, kid! You beat me, so you can beat some overblown showbot!”

Frisk giggles a little. Their combined enthusiasm really does help. “Thanks,” they say. “But there’s this puzzle...”

“Oho! So you wanted help from the great and brilliant Papyrus!! Fear not, human! I, the great Papyrus, am as ever the greatest and most helpfulest at puzzles! Nyeh heh heh heh heh!!”

“You said ‘great’ three times,” Undyne points out.

“That’s because it deserves repeating!!!”

Frisk giggles again and turns their phone around. Texting really is a great function, especially since one can attach images. Once they snap a photo of the puzzle, they send it to their friend and call him back.

“Hmmmm... Hmmmmmmmm...! HMMMMMMM.”

“You should, like, totally destroy ALL the boxes!” Undyne suggests over Papyrus’s mumbling.

Frisk’s smile slips. Chara would’ve liked that suggestion.

“Undyne, they can’t do that! They only have two shots!”

“Then merge your two shots into one mega-shot and DESTROY ALL THE BOXES!!!”

Frisk holds their phone between their hand shoulder and starts tilting the puzzle and thus the boxes depicted on it.

“B-but that’s so inelegant! Puzzle-solving should be precise! Pristine!! P’handsome!!! Like me, Papyrus!!!!”

Left, down, left, down...

“Arrgh, puzzles are too much of a pain, anyway! Just punch your way through, kid! PUNCH IT IN THE SCREEN!”

“No! No punching!” Papyrus protests. “You can’t treat a perfectly good puzzle like that!”

Right, right, up, right.

“Then how would _you_ solve it?”

“Well...”

And _double fire_.

“Hey, wait, what was that sound?” Undyne asks when the single obstructing box and then the ship graphic explode and the machine chimes cheerfully.

“Oh. I solved it,” Frisk says, holding their head up again.

“Wowie!! You solved it just like that, without any help!” Papyrus declares. “I’m so proud of you, human!! I knew you could do it!!!”

“Yeah! You punched that puzzle good!!” Undyne cheers.

“For gosh sakes, Undyne! You don’t punch puzzles!” Papyrus pauses. Frisk can just see him squinting in thought. “Unless it’s a punching puzzle. That you solve. By punching.”

“That’d be my kinda puzzle! Why can’t they all be punching puzzles?!”

“We could _make_ punching puzzles!!!”

“NOW YOU’RE TALKIN’!!!”

Frisk laughs again. Even if they didn’t do anything to actually help them with the puzzle, just having them there cheers them up. It’s soothing, in the way only a skeleton and a fish lady that both like to COMMUNICATE LOUDLY can be.

“Human!!! When you come visit next, Undyne and I will have some new puzzles for you! Nyeh heh heh!!” Papyrus enthuses. “So do your best!!!!”

“YEAAAHHHHHH!!!!!”

Frisk holds their phone at arm’s length and tilt their head back as far as it will go. Undyne’s scream still makes their ears ring. “OK,” they say once the aural danger has passed.

“And... be careful, okay?” he adds, sobering. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to my great friend. And, and... it might be tough, but work hard and you’ll be fine!! And... and... and don’t forget, Papyrus is always on your side!!! That’s what friends are for!”

“Yeah, same here!” Undyne declares while Papyrus squawks. Frisk has a feeling she either shoved him to one side or grabbed the phone while his hand was still on it. “Give ‘em heck, punk!! In that friendly, merciful way you do!”

Frisk laughs again as tears well up. “OK. Thanks.”

“I believe in you, kid. I know you can get through this,” she continues, and if she’s not quite as sober as Papyrus was a moment ago, her voice is serious even in its warmth. “Once Asgore sees what a good kid you are... I’m sure it’ll work out. You’ve made it this far!”

Their tears begin to streak down their cheeks. “Thanks.”

“(Oof!) Yes!!” Papyrus declares, to the sound of Undyne’s _HEY!_ “Now that you’ve made great friends besides simply yours truly, I’m sure you’ll do... great!!!”

“Hey, Papyrus, don’t yank that right out of my hand!” Undyne yells. “I was giving my BFF a pep talk!”

“Well!!! Then please don’t shove my skull out of the way...”

Frisk laughs again. Their vision is too blurred for them to see.

“Anyway, we’ll talk later!” Undyne adds. “Give us a call anytime!”

“Yes!!! As the cool kids say, ‘catch you on the flip side’!!!”

“What? Nobody says that anymore--”

“Th-they don’t????”

“Uh... I mean--HEY WHAT’S THAT OVER THERE?”

The line cuts off. Frisk still laughs as they wipe away their tears, which won’t stop falling. Papyrus’s house must be lively all the time with Undyne staying there. It makes them really want to just turn around and head to Snowdin so they can all have a sleepover together.

_Doesn’t that sound fun, Chara?_ they add, hoping against hope. _We can get hot tea with tons of sugar and watch movies with lots of explosions. You’ll love it. I know..._

No answer.

_I know you will,_ Frisk concludes in a tiny mental voice.

They suck in a breath, put away their phone, slap their cheeks twice, and turn their nervous energy into a forward stride through the metal hallways. They just need a little more time. Frisk will just have to do their best until they come back. And Alphys, Papyrus, and Undyne are all cheering for them... Knowing that their friends are all watching them do their best all on their own fills them with determination.

\---

But determination alone isn’t enough.


	8. This Is A Milestone!!

“Drama! Romance! Bloodshed!!” Mettaton calls, one arm extended triumphantly as he poses again and again. Bombs and blocks fall like rain around Frisk, if rain had a tendency to explode and crush anything in its wake. Frisk shoots wildly, and while they get several of the blocks, they also get several of the bombs, which detonate in their face.

Their heart is pounding when they’re left with two HP, but they eat the back half of a bicicle and power on.

“We’ve grown so distant, darling...” Mettaton purrs not long after that, metallic arms spread. His one visible eye glints, and he adds, “How about a heart-to-heart?!”

There’s a path between the bolts of lightning that his SOUL emits, but Frisk isn’t very quick or agile. They never have been. They bump into a couple of the bolts, wincing in pain each time, even the times when their SOUL flickers through them and is left untouched. They re-apply their bandage, which barely sticks anymore and clearly can’t manage again, and keep managing.

But they can’t progress. They refuse to fight, but they keep getting hurt so bad they have to heal each round just to stay alive. If there’s anything they can do to win Mettaton over, they have no idea what it is. They also have a bad sense of direction, which is good for when you want to get lost in your explorations but bad when trying to shoot and avoid bombs at the same time. They manage to halfway before the directions start getting junior-jumbled in their head.

“If you make it to Asgore, he’ll just kill you! And once he has your SOUL... he’ll crush the human race! Is that really what you want?!” Mettaton demands, posing to the beat.

_No!_ Frisk screams, but it never makes it outside their head. They shoot the last bomb and step left when they should have stepped right. A resounding crash sears a line of light through their vision. It slams them to the ground, and they roll over twice before coming to a stop.

It hurts. It hurts. They’re scared, and they want to go home, wherever that is anymore. In the first timeline, Chara had helped Frisk destroy Mettaton with some effort, but they’re trying so hard to be better now. Tears burn in the corners of their eyes.

“What’s the matter, darling? Had enough already?” Mettaton taunts, posing over them. “Or has my beauty finally reduced you to tears?”

How many people are watching this fight? They don’t know. It has to be a lot, given the screen that displays the ratings over Mettaton’s right shoulder. They know Papyrus is watching. They know Undyne is watching. Alphys can’t be watching, since she’s caught behind a locked door. Same with Toriel, still back in the ruins. Is Sans watching? Is he thinking this serves them right for what they did in the past timelines? Is Flowey? Is Flowey rooting for their destruction? What about Chara?

What about that mysterious third presence they talked about? If They really do help them out with fights, why is Frisk doing so badly?

Why, with so many people invested in their struggle, are they so alone?

_Chara,_ they call, pushing themselves up to their knees. _Chara! Please, answer me!_

But nobody comes.

_Third one! Or whoever You are! If You’re there, please do something!_

But nobody comes.

_Someone! Anyone! Please!!_

But nobody--

_Frisk?_ Chara says cautiously. Their presence illuminates Frisk’s insides like someone entering a room and turning on a lamp. _Not that it’s my business, but you keep nearly dying. What’s going on?_

_Chara!!_ Frisk yelps, flooded with relief. They push themselves to their feet, legs trembling, and look up at Mettaton and the ever-changing ratings screen. Understanding lances their prodigal companion like a needle. _Chara, please! Help me!_

_W-what? Why do you want_ my _help?_ they utter. They sound genuinely taken aback. _I’m just a screw-up, and you don’t believe what I say anyway--_

_I don’t care about that! I’m hurt, and I’m scared, and I’m alone, and I know my friends are watching but they can’t do anything but see me get beat up!_

_What? But the third one’s supposed to--_

_They aren’t doing anything! Or if They are, They’re doing a bad job!_ You’re _here! I want_ your _help!_

_But... But I just make things worse--_

_I don’t CARE!! You want to be better, right? Well, I do too! I want a happy ending! Don’t you, too? So stop making excuses and_ help me make that happen _!!_

As Frisk stands against Mettaton, not doing anything as he awaits their move, the ratings continue to steadily drop. They pant and scrub at their eyes with their sweater sleeve. When they pull it away, they can feel Chara moving with them.

_O-okay. Okay. We can figure this out. Let’s do this together._ They take a steadying breath. _Do you have anything left to heal yourself with?_

_J-just a glamburger I found in the trash._

_Eat it. I’ll help you dodge._

So they do that, and they both notice a significant jump in the ratings as they stuff down the glittery edible-sequin burger.

“Ooh, good choice, darling,” Mettaton remarks, posing with arms framing his head. “The fans just love the MTT-brand glamburger. Not that it’ll save you now!”

Mini-Mettatons begin to fall down towards Frisk and their yellowed SOUL. With Chara’s help, they fire away with remarkable precision until not a one is left.

_Okay, now try doing something cool._

_What? Like what?_

_Anything! Pose or something!_

So Frisk points at Mettaton, then, feeling self-conscious, stammers, “D-don’t... think so fast! I won’t get hit... even once!”

“Big words from such a tiny human!” Mettaton retorts, not missing a beat. “Let’s see if you can back up your boast, gorgeous!”

_‘Don’t think so fast’?_ Chara echoes as another wall of blocks and bombs begins to fall their way.

_I-I was under pressure!!_

_Whatever, works for me!_ they reply as they shoot a path through the blocks, evading the bombs neatly. It nets them another significant boost to the ratings.

_H-hey. If they get high enough... maybe viewers will call in and, um, ask he not kill us?_ Frisk suggests as Chara cheers in triumph.

_Wha--huh? Oh, huh, that might happen, too._

_What did you think would happen?_

_I was figuring we could out-perform him and humiliate him into getting lost._

Frisk considers this for a second, then arch one arm behind their head, stretch one forward, position their fingers like little lightning bolts, and pose with one leg forward and one leg partially bent back. The ratings jump again. They’d climbed a lot in the first timeline too, to around eight or nine thousand, but they’d destroyed Mettaton before anything else had happened.

_So we’ll need over nine thousand,_ Chara concludes, then chuckles for some reason.

Confidence bolstered, Frisk replies, _Let’s aim for ten thousand!_

And so the battle rages on. It’s not an easy one--they’re out of healing items and Chara’s dodge rate is not 100%--but the more hurt they are, the more posing boosts the ratings. It actually gets fun fast, though maybe it’s because Frisk has their companion back. And Chara laughs too as they shoot the disco ball to turn the lasers blue, as they shoot bombs and deftly slide the yellow SOUL out of the way of their blasts. When Mettaton summons their SOUL again to shoot bolts and bombs, Chara accepts the challenge and gets them through not only unscathed, but renders Mettaton’s arms trashed.

It’s honestly concerning to Frisk, but neither side is about to back down now. They don’t think too hard about if they’ll have to load, either if they die or Mettaton does; they dash this way and that with Chara’s help, evading and dancing. If the ratings are anything to judge by, the invisible audience is impressed, too. Soon, even Mettaton’s prized legs have been reduced to scrap, and Frisk is panting from the exertion of the fight. Even so, they persevere, having gotten thoroughly into the role.

“I... won’t lose! My friends believe in me!” Frisk poses dramatically, with legs spread and both arms crossed before them, index and pinky fingers extended. They sweep their arms outward as if shooting a thunderbolt at the supreme idol robot. “This is it, Mettaton!”

_Hahahaha, that’s so anime,_ Chara snickers.

Mettaton, who has no means by which to pose back anymore, glares heatedly. “We’ll just see who the true star is here, darling! But I assure you, the one to ascend to and protect the human world... shall be ME!”

SOULs, yellow and white, human and monster, dance around each other with lasers and lightning bolts. As the former impact the latter and strike through to their core, a brilliant flash of light rocks the area. Frisk covers their eyes with the crook of one arm, and when their vision clears, they can see... that Mettaton is still there.

But he no longer looks angry. Rather, he looks delighted.

“Oh my!! Look at these ratings!!” he exclaims--and he’s right; the board is well over ten thousand now. “This is a milestone!!”

Frisk stares at him for a moment, still panting, and then begins to smile as he stops paying any attention whatsoever to them in order to take calls from viewers. That smile grows when they recognize the first caller’s voice, and then grows some more when they realize that Mettaton recognized it. As more flood in, they ease themselves to the floor to have a seat.

_Wow,_ they think. _I can’t believe we got through that._

_That was a lot of fun!_ Chara declares, sounding excited. _Man, I wanna try that again, see if we can get even better ratings once we’re good and prepared._

_No! I really didn’t think we were gonna get through that for a while there._

_What, even with me helping you?_ they say, and Frisk can hear a teasing lilt to it. _No way_ that _would happen._

Frisk breathes a faint laugh and resists the urge to sprawl out as they watch their former enemy. They wait for a moment, then ease back up to their feet as Mettaton decides to belay his debut in the human world for a while longer. They smile and nod at him when he voices his respect for their strength and ability to protect the human world, and puff out a sigh of relief when his batteries run out, leaving him immobilized but unharmed.

When Alphys rushes in, Frisk doesn’t really need to say anything to her; as soon as she sees the situation, she focuses on Mettaton instead. It occurs to them that the two of them must actually care about each other, no matter how rocky their friendship might be.

_Chara,_ they say, _there really is a third one?_

The cheer drains from Chara in an instant. _...Are you asking me or telling me?_

_I dunno. Both? Maybe it doesn’t matter._

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

_It means I thought about it, and most probably people wouldn’t believe me if I told them you were here with me,_ Frisk replies. _But you are. So if there’s a third one here, and you can sense Them but I can’t... that doesn’t mean They’re not there._ They pass Alphys to head through the opposite door to the long elevator. _It’s like the voice in my head has a voice in their head._

Chara actually laughs at that one. _Yeah, maybe._ They pause. _You know, They were helping us just now when we were facing off against Mettaton. You really don’t sense Them at all?_

_No. But after all we’ve been through together, I don’t think you’d lie to me about this._

_You... really believe me?_

_Yeah._

Chara says nothing, but Frisk can feel their relief and a hint of affection. In the hallway past where they had a stage-off with Mettaton, Alphys emerges from the other room and follows them to the elevator. Frisk waits for her to tell them a shocking revelation they already know, then lets her go. What they need to do to pass the barrier remains a sobering thought.

_But... can you promise me something?_ Frisk adds.

_What?_

Frisk looks over their shoulder to make sure Alphys has really gone. Then they walk into the elevator and press the button. Once it’s in motion, they slump against a wall, forehead on metal. _Please... please don’t leave me alone again._

Chara makes a small, indistinct noise. Then, slowly, hesitantly, Frisk feels a light pressure on their back and in a band around their stomach, as if someone were giving them a cautious hug from behind.

_I’m sorry. I know you’ve been abandoned before, and I still... I really am a rotten friend._

Frisk touches their belly. There’s of course nothing there--the sensation of being hugged is literally all in their head--but it’s nice to imagine that they’re holding Chara’s hand anyway. _I don’t care,_ they tell them quietly. _Just don’t leave me again. Promise?_

_Okay... If that’s good enough for you, I promise._

_And I’m sorry for doubting you at first and hurting your feelings, Chara. I wasn’t being a good friend there, either. So..._

_It’s--it’s okay. I mean, it’s not_ okay _, but... as long as you believe me now, that’s what matters._

They stand as one until the elevator’s whir eventually slows and comes to a stop. The doors roll open, but Frisk doesn’t leave. They only turn around and curl their arms around themselves as if to hug someone with no physical form. The feeling of being hugged back intensifies.

_I want... to tell you something. About me,_ Chara whispers. _Can I...?_

_Tell me anything,_ Frisk whispers back.

They take a deep breath, and bruise-purple tension wires through Frisk’s mind. _You know by now I used to be human, a long time ago. I lived on the surface, like you. I had a mom and a dad. But they were bad people, Frisk. They used... to hurt... me._ Chara chokes on the words like bile. Frisk feels the pressure on their shoulders increase. _But in my village, they were popular. They were good at acting nice when other people were around, so people liked and respected them. So when... when I tried--to tell people, what they were, doing to me... they didn’t believe me. They called me a liar. They said I was, making it up, for attention. And, if, it were really, true, I must, be a bad kid, to make them act, like that._

A lot of puzzle pieces snap together for Frisk, and the picture they show breaks their heart. They send out a wave of compassion, and Chara responds with a deluge of rage and pain and sorrow. It threatens to overwhelm and wash Frisk’s consciousness away, but they hold on.

_I hate them. I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I HATE THEM. I want them to die. I want to rip them apart. I want to hurt_ everyone _who hurt me until there’s no one left. If scum like them thrive in this world, then the world itself should be destroyed!_ They sob with such force that Frisk feels like their SOUL may tear in half. _You see, Frisk? You see? They were right. I_ am _a bad kid. Only a bad kid would think this way. Only a bad kid like me would do what I did._ Their sobs melt into laughter, sticky with loathing. _Aren’t you sorry you were nice to me now?_

_No. Never,_ Frisk whispers, weeping. _Thank you so much for trusting me, Chara. I’m so sorry they hurt you so bad. You didn’t deserve it, I swear you didn’t._

The laughter melts back into wails. Frisk cries with them for a long time until both of them, breath by breath, tear by tear, manage to calm down. By then, Frisk has sunk to the floor, their back to the corner. Both of them are emotionally wrung out by then, but Frisk wants to reach out to Chara--to let them know they’re not alone. They know one way they can do that.

_Can I..._ they murmur slowly, _tell you something about me, too, Chara?_

_W-what?_

_It’s about why I came to Mt. Ebott._

_...I’m listening._

They scrub at their face with the sleeve of their sweater and try to keep their breathing under control. _A long time ago, I had parents. A mom and a dad. But they didn’t like each other. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because I was born. I got the feeling sometimes like they were happy until I came along._

Chara makes a small noise. Frisk is briefly uncertain, but they press on.

_One day, they had a really big argument. A REALLY big one, way bigger than all the rest. My dad left the house, and he never came back. My mom cried a lot. Then, a while later, she brought me to a park, and told me to sit on a bench, and told me she’d be right back._

_She didn’t come back either,_ Chara guesses softly.

Frisk’s vision blurs, and they nod once. It’s easier if they think of it as a story they’re describing about someone else entirely. _I waited a long time. It got late. Someone saw me and took me to the police station, but I didn’t know my address, so the police couldn’t do anything. Nobody knew what to do with me. I waited in one of the rooms with a juice box and a bag of animals crackers someone gave me, but nobody came._

_Frisk..._

_After that, I kept going to new houses and apartments and getting taken care of by different people. Nobody wanted to keep me for long; I think the longest was a year and a half. They weren’t mean about it. They just had other things they had to worry about._ They sniffle and force a tremulous smile. _It wasn’t all bad. I got to explore all kinds of new places every time I moved. And I know you had it so much worse than me, so I don’t want to complain too much. But... I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I always felt like a burden._

It’s the strangest thing. The pressure sensation shifts, and for a second, Frisk feels like they can actually see Chara: a faint, dark outline of a kid their age. But they’re gone in a blink.

_Not too long ago, I moved in with someone who lives near near Mt. Ebott. He’s OK. He fed me and stuff, and he was nice. But the day before I came here, I overheard him talking on the phone how he only agreed to keep me for a few months and he couldn’t do more than that. I just got so tired of it all, and... I decided I should disappear._ Frisk sniffles again and rubs their eyes. _So... i-it’s not just you, Chara. I’m not a good kid. If I were good, Mom and Dad wouldn’t have left me behind. If I were good, I wouldn’t have made trouble for someone who was already put out by looking after me._

_Put out, nothing!_ Chara exclaims. _Take it from me, Frisk: you_ are _a good kid. You’re easy to look after, too. Your mom and dad and all those other guys were just stupid. Almost all humans are, so it makes sense. They didn’t know a good kid when they met one._

Frisk can’t help it; they start to giggle wetly. _Thanks, Chara. And here I was trying to comfort_ you _... You’re really nice when you want to be._

_Sh-shut up._

Frisk giggles a little more. _Is someone being tsundere?_

Now Chara starts to laugh too. _Shut up! It’s not like I like you or anything, idiot!_

They both crack up hard, and it makes Frisk feel so much better. It doesn’t change either of their pasts or what’s happened before, but they feel a deep affection for their bodymate blooming scarlet inside them. Chara reciprocates it in a shade of maroon, and when they come together, it forms a bright red heart.

_Thanks for listening,_ Frisk murmurs.

_Y-you too._ Chara pauses. _Frisk?_

_Yeah?_

_Sorry again for leaving you._

_Me too. Sorry again for not believing you._

Chara makes a small, warm noise. Then: _Well, I guess that’s as much stalling as we can manage, huh,_ they quip, flipping into dismissive nonchalance as if they hadn’t both just bared their hearts to one another. Maybe it’s their way of dealing with their hurt. _Are you ready to go?_

Frisk wipes the last remains of their tears, now drying on their cheeks, away. _Yeah. Let’s write a new ending together, Chara._

_You do the writing. I’ll just be your annoying and slightly murder-y muse._

A burr of disappointment prickles Frisk. _You don’t want to do it together?_

_Oh, we’ll still do it together! But this way, the ending will be a lot more... a-muse-ing._

Frisk chokes with unexpected laughter. _Oh my god, stop._

_I’LL NEVER STOP._

_Okay, okay, then--I’ll believe in you, so don’t be-leaving me!_

Chara sputters. _Oh my god, I’m so mad._

_Wait, r-really?_

_Yeah, I’m mad I didn’t think of that first!_

Bursting with giggles, Frisk pushes themselves to their feet and walks out of the elevator. Just outside and to the left is a SAVE point, and they bask in it for a while after saving and letting its glittering light soothe their wounds. Only now do they realize that their bandage has fallen off and been left behind at some point--and that it doesn’t bother them. They don’t need it anymore.

Despite what still needs to be done, they’re happier and more at peace with themselves and their companion than they’ve ever been before. They can sense that Chara feels the same way, too. Knowing that they’ll face the end of their journey as one fills them with determination... together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poses Frisk makes in this chapter are references to Sailor Jupiter from _Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon_. The first one, after Chara says, "I was figuring we could out-perform him," is from Jupiter's transformation sequence, and the second, after Frisk says, "My friends believe in me!" is from her season one attack, Supreme Thunder. The same goes for the narrative text in the same paragraph that reads, "...as if shooting a **thunder** bolt at the **supreme** idol robot." These references were made because this chapter was originally posted on Makoto Kino/Sailor Jupiter's birthday, December 5.
> 
> "[So we'll need] over nine thousand" is a reference to a _Dragonball Z_ meme.


	9. Even If You Aren't Good...

It strikes Frisk all over again how much New Home looks just like the Home in the ruins. They know it’s by design, but it still gives them a sense of déjà vu multiplied by three. For Chara, the feeling is even stronger. Before, they’d kept their feelings of the place tightly wrapped up, a secret from Frisk; now, they can sense their bittersweet nostalgia. It filters in as shafts of molten golden-brown and smells like dark chocolate and tea with sugar. Frisk’s heart aches.

_Even the kitchen looks the same,_ they think as they fetch the key lying on the counter there. _I can almost smell the butterscotch-cinnamon pie._

_You still have your slice. You could take it out of your spare box and give it a good sniff if you want._

_Heehee._ Frisk glances towards the trash can and its many crumpled-up recipes, then towards the fridge, which they already know has snails inside. _Maybe I can bribe Asgore into not fighting with it._

_That’s not a bad idea, really,_ Chara muses.

_...You think we_ could _talk him out of fighting?_

_It’d be nice,_ they say glumly.

Frisk knows what they mean. They can manage to wear down his will to fight, but then Flowey will definitely appear to kill him and steal the SOULs. And even by some chance if he doesn’t... Asgore will kill himself.

After resetting from _that_ , even Frisk had to agree with Chara to fight until they couldn’t be hurt any more, even if it ultimately meant ensuring there was nobody left. By the time they regretted their decision, the stress of it was too much to handle, and... Frisk rubs their head. It makes them queasy to think about. Better leave that slice of pie right where it is.

_Toriel wanted to keep you, you know,_ Chara points out as they leave for the living/dining room. _You could’ve stayed with her back in the first timeline. Why didn’t you?_

_I dunno,_ Frisk admits. _I guess... I’m just so used to not having a home for long. It felt too good to be true._ They think on this for a second, then nod. _Yeah. I wanted to go before she decided I wasn’t any good after all. She’s so nice, and... I didn’t think I could handle it again. I wonder how she’s doing... I hope she’s OK._

They listen patiently as monsters appear to recount the history of the royal family and the human child they took in. They’ve heard it before, but they listen again. It feels... only right to pay attention. Chara doesn’t seem to disagree.

_I’m surprised, though,_ Frisk says once they can move on. _I thought you hated Toriel._

_What? No I don’t._

_What, you don’t? But the way you felt when you killed her last timeline..._

Chara doesn’t answer right away, but Frisk can feel an ugly, mottled brown-red of shame. _What I hate,_ they murmur eventually, _are adults who act like they know what’s best for you. Most of the time they’re just trying to control you and grind you down until they can mold you into what they want._

_And that’s why you...?_

_...It made it easier, anyway._

_What about the third one? Didn’t you say They encouraged you...?_

_It’s not Their fault!_ Chara bursts out. _I wanted power. I wanted to never be hurt again. I wanted to stop feeling miserable, or guilty, or anything at all. They just helped me get what I wanted. Th-They guided me... when I wondered what I should do._

_Chara..._

_I just--I don’t want to make excuses anymore. Now I want to be a better friend._

_...Okay. Thanks, Chara._

Frisk heads past the padlocked stairwell to the hallway of bedrooms. One, just as in the ruins, is under renovation. One is Asgore’s, though they only poke around a little. The key is not far from the mirror, and they stop to make sure they don’t have any scrapes or bruises that they haven’t noticed by feel. It’s a silly worry, thanks to the healing power of SAVE points, but it’s a habit. Despite everything, it’s still them, as Chara reassures them.

There are golden flowers everywhere, and Frisk muses that Asgore must really like this one plant. On the way back to the stairs, Frisk opens the door to the children’s bedroom and

\---

Chara walked in.

Dust clung to everything. Their shoes. Their sweater. Their hands. Their hair. Their eyelashes. Even the knife they’d unwrapped fresh from one of the boxes inside. How magical. It had been a long time. But it and the locket were back where they belonged.

The toys in the toybox were dusty too. Chara picked one up. They turned it over. Then they dropped it. They licked the dust from their fingertips. It smelled like nothing and tasted like death.

Their room. Theirs and his. It wouldn’t be long now. They took one last look around. Their bed. His bed. Their clothes in the dresser. Their drawing on the wall. Their photograph on

\---

the dresser, which looks like it’s been cleaned recently. Frisk picks up the frame and looks at the snapshot within it. They recognize Toriel and Asgore, but the two children below they don’t recognize by sight. Still, they’re sure they know who they are. The monsters have been telling them the story all through their stay here.

The kid who looks like a goat must be Asriel, and the human child with their face buried in a bouquet of flowers must be the one who fell down from the surface. Frisk traces the child’s outline. They don’t look like they could have been much older than themselves at the time. They wonder how long ago it was taken. The most heartbreaking part is how _happy_ they looked back then, even the kid, who hides their face (they must have been camera-shy); Frisk notes their relaxed shoulders and the way they lean towards their best friend. They’re all

\---

smiling. That was a lifetime ago. Chara stared at it. Then they walked away.

Flowey was outside. “Boy, this sure brings back memories, huh? Remember how we used to play together here?” he said. He was smiling. Chara smiled back. Chara smiled at everything now. It was as empty as they both were.

Chara unlocked the chains

\---

and Frisk walks downstairs, rubbing their arms to stop themselves from shivering. It’s weirdly chilly down here; they don’t remember it being this cold the first timeline.

_Chara, are you okay?_ they wonder.

_Not really,_ they reply. _Just... remembering some things._

_Do you want to talk about it at all?_

_I... No. I don’t. But I should._

_You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to._

Chara says nothing. Maybe it’s because of the monsters now telling Frisk of the human child who had been found by the King’s son Asriel, and how one day they had grown ill and died. Even knowing it already, it hurts Frisk’s heart.

And maybe it’s because they were just listening to the story of a child who died, but when Chara _does_ speak, they murmur, _I didn’t tell you what happened when I went to Mt. Ebott, did I?_

This time, Frisk says nothing. They don’t need to.

_Before I went there, I thought a lot about dying,_ they go on. _But I was scared to actually kill myself. I wasn’t afraid of death, and I’d gotten used to pain, but I was afraid of what would happen to me if I messed it up. I was scared of_ surviving _, can you believe it? But then I heard the story of Mt. Ebott--how if you go there, you never come back. Well, that’s just what I wanted: to vanish. To not exist anymore. I didn’t care how it happened._

_But that’s not how you died, right?_ Frisk wonders. _You died from the buttercups._

_When I tripped on a root and fell down a hole--the same one you did--I thought it must’ve been fate,_ Chara continues. _But you’re right; I survived the fall, just like you did. And it hurt so bad, I called for help without thinking._

_Did Toriel find you?_

_...No. Someone else did. You remember the friend I told Sans about? That was_

\---

me,” said Flowey. He made faces as he talked. It was distracting. “I was in despair. I thought, what’s the point of living in a world without love? So... I decided to follow in your footsteps, Chara.”

Not distracting enough.

“But as I was dying, something primal took hold of me. ‘I don’t want to die!’ I told myself. And when I woke up, I was back in the garden. Back to my SAVE point. And all that time I wasted on _them_ , trying to feel something again? Erased. As if it’d never been. They didn’t remember a thing--but I did,” he concluded.

Flowey was empty. Just like them. _He_ hadn’t been able to fix that. Neither had _she_.

Just like them.

They really were best friends.

“Haha... I wish I’d figured that part out sooner,” Flowey added. His smile was bittersweet. Like dark chocolate. Like tea with sugar. What stupid, useless memories. “Of course I couldn’t feel love or compassion in a world without you, Chara.”

They stared at him. He dove back underground. He’d actually looked sad. Stupid. Useless.

They moved

\---

onwards, as monsters whisper more and more of the tale of Asriel and his family. The way he’d refused to fight against the humans who attacked him under the misguided belief that he’d killed his human friend; the way he’d struggled back home and died there; the way Toriel and Asgore must have felt when they learned their children were both gone.

Toriel had tried so hard in each timeline to keep them from leaving the ruins, to keep another child from dying. Asgore had told them in the first timeline that he didn’t want power or to fight, that he’d just wanted his family back. Frisk remembers what they’ve seen as monsters whisper joyously that the last human SOUL will finally bring them freedom, and wipes tears from their eyes. They have a feeling that some of those tears are Chara’s.

_He was so nice,_ Chara whispers, choked up. _I thought it was a trick at first. His mom and dad, too. They were all so nice, I thought they had to be hiding some awful secret. But they weren’t. They really were good people. They took me in, Frisk. They treated me like part of their own family. They_ were _my family, my_ real _family, not those rotten awful humans on the surface. But then..._

They trail off.

_But then... the buttercups happened,_ Frisk realizes, horror dawning.

Chara laughs, and it rings with despair. _I told you. I’m a bad kid. I destroyed the only family that ever loved me. That’s my real sin. And no matter how many times you or I or we reset, I’ll never be able to erase it._

_But it was an accident! You didn’t mean to hurt anyone! You wouldn’t_

\---

give me any fake pity!” Flowey cackled. His leer was grotesque. Chara stared. They used to make faces just like it for fun. “After all this time, you’re still the only one who understands me. So let’s show them all, Chara. This world is and always has been ‘kill or be killed’!!”

He burrowed back into the ground. Chara’s body felt light. They didn’t know why. Their grip tightened on the real knife. They walked past the disturbed earth. The locket beat on their chest.

Flowey kept following them. Kept talking to them. “I had some ideas for how to use that power, you know. Heeheehee...” The face they made looked nothing like their original face. “But... I’ve been thinking... if I were with you... just living on the surface might not be so bad.”

Chara walked past.

Flowey kept following them. Kept talking at them. “But in the end, it really is just you and me, Chara. We _get_ each other. Creatures like us wouldn’t hesitate to _kill_ each other if we got in each other’s way! So that’s...”

Chara stopped.

“So... that’s... why...”

Chara stared at him. Flowey began to shake.

“H-hey... No hard feelings about what happened before, right? Aha... ha... Wh-what’s this feeling?” he croaked. “It’s like... like...” He shuddered. “Chara, I changed my mind. This isn’t such a good idea after all. Let’s just forget the whole thing, okay?”

Chara leered at him with their special, creepy face.

“H-hey, stop making that face!” Flowey yelled. His pitch had gone up. “You’ve got a sick sense of humor, you know

\---

_nothing,_ Chara mumbles. _Whether I_ meant _to hurt them or not doesn’t matter. I_ did _hurt them. If they’d never adopted me, they’d be living happily now._

This time, Frisk lets this soak in for a moment. _Your friend... the one who saved your life... was Flowey, right? You two have always talked like you’ve known each other a long time._

Chara laughs hollowly.

_But you did something terrible to him. Something you could never undo,_ they continue slowly. They’ve had a niggling feeling like Chara’s story is familiar. When the monsters ask them if they aren’t happy they’re going to be free, it hits them like a knife to the throat.

_Flowey is_

\---

just out of reach, thanks to a quick recoil. Chara leered at them again. He always was such a coward. Stupid. Useless.

“What d’you think you’re doing?!” Flowey demanded. He was bluffing. He was terrified. He was terrified of _them_. “Keep your hands off me! Don’t get anywhere near me!!”

Chara snatched a hand out again. Too slow. Flowey fled underground. Chara thrust their fingers into the dirt. Too late. Yet again, they’d been backstabbed by their so-called best friend,

\---

_Asriel,_ Frisk whispers, eyes widening. _Flowey is_ Asriel _. Toriel had chocolate in her fridge, Asgore wanted to offer me a cup of tea--_ they _were your mom and dad, your_ real _ones! Asriel found a hurt human who fell from the surface and took them home--that human was_ you _!_

_Haha... Told you you weren’t dumb, Frisk._

Frisk covers their mouth with one hand. With the other, they clutch the locket they now realize was once Chara’s. They linger before the door to the last corridor. _Oh my god. Oh my_ god _._

_Are you still going to tell me I’m good? After you’ve seen how much everyone’s suffered because of what I did?_ Chara doesn’t even sound upset anymore... just hopeless. _You haven’t even figured everything out yet. How much worse do you wanna bet it gets?_

_Chara..._ They have to admit, there’s more that they don’t know about their companion than they could have possibly guessed. What they’ve just learned is enough of a shock, and the puzzle pieces they have remaining hint at a disturbing picture. Chara’s hatred for their human parents and village, the way Asriel went to the surface, came back, and died, and how Chara’s story doesn’t quite fit in neatly with the monsters’s story... Still, no matter what it turns out to be, there’s one truth Frisk knows:

_Even if you aren’t good, I still love you._

Chara starts to cry.

Those words, which speak to the many scars on their heart... and their tears, which convey in return how much they mean to them. It fills each of them with determination.


	10. I'm Going To Keep Trusting You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Nartothelar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nartothelar) for their great [chapter 10 fanart](http://nartothelar.tumblr.com/post/141069355448)! Warning: contains spoilers for this chapter, so make sure to look after you've read it!

Frisk pushes open the door to the final corridor. They’d wept with Chara until their companion had calmed down, but they know who waits just ahead and both of them are nervous, Frisk a little, Chara a lot. A glittering SAVE point greets them on the other side, untouched by the golden light that floods the hallway and casts sharp shadows in its wake. Sniffling, Frisk uses it, then walks down past the stained glass windows, past the columns. A figure wreathed in shadow appears all of a sudden, just like he did in the first timeline; Frisk is unsurprised to see him. They sniffle again and try to stand up a little straighter.

He flips a hand up in greeting, the other in his hoodie pocket. “Hey there, kiddo. You look like you’re having

\---

a bad time?” Sans rasped, eye sockets dark.

Chara sneered, unimpressed. They’d grown strong on the dust of hundreds of monsters. They couldn’t lose. “How bad a time could you possibly give me? You’re just a lazy do-nothing who gave up the instant his brother died.”

Sans shrugged. The motion was jerky. Unnatural. “I wouldn’t bet on that, kid. Like my brother said: it’s never too late to change.”

Chara scoffed. They advanced another step. “You’re an idiot, and so was he.” They lifted their knife. “This will be quick.”

Sans’s grin widened. It was more like a grimace now. “True that. Heh... Sorry, old lady. This is why I hate making promises.”

Ten seconds later, Chara was dead.

\---

Frisk rubs the tears from their eyes and shrugs. “Could be worse.”

“Heh.” He tucks his hand into his other pocket. “So, if you really are a time traveler like you said, you already know exactly why I’m here and what I’m gonna tell you.”

Frisk nods. “Judgment.”

Sans’s smile turns wry. “I’ll skip the spiel, then. No point in wasting time.”

Frisk half-nods, half-shrugs. “How’d you get this job?”

“How?” Sans echoes, looking surprised. He thinks about it for a second. “Huh. Nobody’s ever asked me that before.”

_How many people even know he has it?_ Chara murmurs. Frisk smiles a little.

“Good thing we’re not here to talk about me,” he continues, and Frisk snorts. Sans grins a little more but otherwise ignores it. “You really did it, though, just like you wanted. You don’t have a single scrap of EXP.”

Frisk nods decisively.

“So, with that in mind, I got a question: what comes

\---

after thrice?” Sans’s eyes went dark. “Wanna help me find out?”

Chara was beyond frustrated. The first death had come as a complete surprise. The second death came later. They managed to get past his opener. Then they found themselves deluged in bones moving faster than they could track in their entirety. They were soon trapped. Even brushing against one made the life bleed from their SOUL one point of damage at a time. The third death came as _another_ surprise. Sans shot off his opening mega-attack early for some reason. The fourth death...

They’d gotten much further. They had the timing of the opener mostly down now. They’d gotten better at navigating the next attacks too. Sans still dodged their stabs. He wouldn’t shut up about some anomaly either. Chara didn’t give a damn. It was hard enough concentrating on the fight. Dodging his attacks was hard. So was shoving food in their mouth when they failed. And Sans had every reason to hate them. So it was a total surprise when, all of a sudden, he stopped.

“Listen,” he said, smile pleading. “I know you didn’t answer me before, but... somewhere in there, I can feel it. There’s a glimmer of a good person inside of you. The memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing. Someone who, in another time, could have even been... a friend?”

Chara blinked.

“C’mon, buddy. Do you remember me? Please, if you’re listening... let’s just forget all this, OK?” Sans continued. “Just lay down your weapon, and... well, my job will be a lot easier.”

Chara hesitated. It was true. They once wanted to do the right thing. But that was a long time ago. They couldn’t ever go back to what they once were. Right?

Fight, said the third one.

So Chara fought. It was no longer a question.

But it still infuriated them when they died _again_ half a minute later.

\---

Frisk scratches their head. What comes next? It’s difficult to say. They know Sans really means the resets--he said so explicitly back at MTT Resort--and just like before, they can’t really give a clean, neat answer. It would be great if they didn’t have to reset again, but they just don’t know whether they will or not.

So they shake their head and shrug, arms spread.

“Heh. Guess that _was_ a broad one,” Sans admits. “Okay. Let me put it like this. You know I don’t like that little gremlin you got piggybacking on your SOUL, but they were right about one thing: I can’t actually stop you. Not if you’re determined enough to do what you want.”

Frisk frowns at the “gremlin” comment. “Don’t talk about them like that.”

_Frisk, it’s fine,_ Chara insists. _I got mad before, but that’s because I wanted him to like me. I should’ve known better._

_No, this is important,_ Frisk counters. _He can’t talk about you like that. I won’t let him._

Chara doesn’t respond, but they can feel their happiness and uneasiness in equal measure.

Sans pauses and looks them over in assessment. Then he nods once. “Yeah, okay, that was pretty rude of me. Sorry ‘bout that, kiddo.”

Frisk smiles, then considers his point.

_Wow. That was a surprise,_ Chara says as they do, though they sound a little happier. _Really, it’s fine if he doesn’t like me. I don’t like me, either. And hey, he admitted I was right about something! That’s something to_

\---

celebrate!” Sans cheered. Chara glared at him. Ten deaths and they _still_ couldn’t beat him. Ten. _Ten_. The last time was _so_ close too. He’d started talking about a special attack. They had to have been close. “We’ll invite all your friends, have pie and hot dogs, and... Oh, wait. That’s not gonna work.” He jeered at them black-eyed. “You don’t _have_ any friends.”

Chara flinched. They slashed the air with a shaky knife hand. “Shut up!!”

“Whoops.” He glanced to one side. “Did I touch a nerve there?” He stared back at them. “Can’t imagine why, since _you killed everyone yourself_.”

And he was right. It made no sense. Chara must have shouted out of frustration. Ten deaths in a row. But it bothered them. Sans kept offering mercy. Each time, Chara listened to the third one. They rejected it. They attacked. They chose to FIGHT.

It was a trick, anyway. It had to be. Sans was right; Chara had no friends. Not even Asriel. Asriel was a coward. He betrayed them before. He ruined the entire plan. He’d betray them again. Stop _now_? What was the point? What was the point?

What was the point?

Chara aimed the knife at Sans. “Let’s just get to the point.”

“Wow. Was that a joke?”

...Oh. They used... to like--

“Heh. Nah, it couldn’t have been,” Sans continued. “You’re not _sharp_ enough for that.”

Chara didn’t need the third one’s prompts to decide to FIGHT rather than SPARE the next time. Too bad they died two rounds later.

\---

_He can dislike you if he wants,_ Frisk replies. _But he’s not allowed to insult you._

_...Thanks, Frisk._

“I don’t want to do anything bad,” they say aloud.

“And I believe you,” Sans replies. “We wouldn’t be chatting here like this if I didn’t. I decided to trust that you really do want to do the right thing, and it just took you a while to sort yourself out. But this isn’t about what you _don’t_ want. It’s what you _do_ want. What do you want, kid? At the end of your resets, what are you hoping to get out of it all?”

The answer to this, at least, is obvious. “I want a happy ending. For everyone. You too, Sans.”

“And that’s great, kid! Really, it is, and no joke. But with that in mind, there’s an extremely important question you need to consider: what if you don’t get it?”

Frisk hesitates. They’ve been keeping positive until now, but... Sans is right. It’s entirely possible that after all their efforts, Flowey will refuse to stop standing in their way of a happy ending. If that happens... then what?

“Looks like you get it,” Sans observes, watching their face. “I want you to think hard about this. What if you _can’t_ get that picture-perfect ending? Is one little hair in your fries gonna make you throw the whole box out? Are you really gonna give it all up at the eleventh

\---

try.

“Let’s just get to the point,” Sans said.

_THAT WAS_ MY _JOKE,_ Chara nearly screamed.

When they died ten minutes later, they finally had the time to wonder why it mattered to them so much whose joke it was, or whether or not it was a joke at all.

\---

And Frisk does think hard on this. They get what Sans is trying to say. He said it before: sometimes it’s better to settle for what you have. There’s no knowing for certain if the perfect ending they want is possible. One where they’re friends with everyone; one where the people of the Underground are safe and happy; one where Asgore isn’t killed, by another’s hand or his own; one where even Flowey is saved. There’s no knowing for certain, if it is possible, how many times they might have to reset to get it. In that case, isn’t it better to preserve what they’ve accomplished, rather than doing the same things over and over in the hopes of a different result?

They think hard on all this, and they steel their spine. “I still have to

\---

try.

“C’mon, buddy. Just lay down your weapon, and... well, my job will be a lot easier,” Sans said. He held out his arms. “What d’you say?”

Chara hesitated again. They were getting sick of this. They’d fought him so many times they’d half-forgotten why they were fighting in the first place. Sans was in the way, and they wanted to get him out of the way. But why, again? What were they trying to do again? If they killed Sans... then what?

They thought about Flowsriel, shrinking away from them in fear. They thought about themselves, viewing that fear as cowardice and betrayal. Their knife hand trembled.

_What should I do?_ they wondered.

Fight, said the third one.

So Chara fought. But not very well, all considered.

\---

Sans puffs out a sigh, shoulders sagging. “All right. I can respect someone willing to work hard for what they want. If it were me, I’d have thrown in the towel ages ago, but you--you didn’t get this far by giving up, did you?”

Frisk nods once, and it carries the weight of their determination. Whether the ending they want is possible or not, they won’t know if they give up now.

He smiles at them half-heartedly. “Then let me tell you one thing straight-out: you want a happy ending for everyone, including me? The happiest ending you could possibly give me, personally, is an ending where there are no resets.” His smile curdles. “Ever. Again.”

\---

The last try.

Chara really was sick of fighting. At this point, they were only doing it because there was nothing else left to do. To progress, they had to get past Sans. That was all there was to it. But what was the point of all the power they’d gained if they couldn’t overcome this one opponent?

Once again, Sans spread his arms. “Just lay down your weapon, and... well, my job will be a lot easier,” he coaxed.

Easier. Chara knew all about _easier_. After killing Sans, there would be just the throne room left. So the last person to kill would be... Asgore. Asgore, and Asriel.

They thought about the end of the last timeline. They squeezed the hilt of their knife. Asgore died no matter what. So who cared? They’d already gotten Asriel killed twice. What did another time matter? It was _easier_ to feel nothing. Right?

The third one said nothing.

“C’mon,” Sans wheedled.

Chara wondered what their stolen soul thought. They weren’t paying attention, though. They’d largely stopped tuning in right after they’d killed Papyrus together. It was too much for them to kill someone who was sparing them, they guessed. As far as Chara was concerned, it was easy after murdering their own adoptive mother. After that, it’d been them and the third one.

And now They were silent, too. Chara could feel Them watching. Waiting. For what?

“What d’you say?” Sans prompted.

Chara stared at him. For the first time, they stopped to wonder how it must feel to offer mercy to the one who murdered your beloved brother. If it were them, they’d...

They’d...

They’d never forgive someone who killed Asriel.

Their vision blurred and swam.

That was right. They could never forgive themselves for killing Asriel. The humans had dealt the actual blows, and Chara would never forgive them either, but Asriel would never have gone to the surface if they hadn’t talked him into going along with their plan. Asriel had made it clear he wasn’t comfortable with it, too. They were going to free everyone together, but instead they robbed them of all hope. Asgore’s suicide had made that excruciatingly clear.

The only escape from their sin was to kill so many times that dust coated their borrowed body and choked out all regret. With so many sins crawling on their back, surely they wouldn’t notice one more. A demon brimming with LOVE would feel nothing at all, anyway. That was what they thought they’d wanted, and the third one had helped provide. And the end result? They were going to end up killing Asriel again.

They were, weren’t they.

Asriel wasn’t the traitor. _They_ were.

Chara blinked. Tears fell from their eyes, and the knife fell from their hand.

The third one said nothing as they chose to

\---

_Spare us, Sans,_ Chara comments, but however sardonic the words, their tone is subdued. _The only reason you say that is because Papyrus is still alive. If he weren’t, a million gold says you’d be pushing for a reset._

_What’s wrong with that?_ Frisk replies. _He loves Papyrus a lot. Of course he’d want to live in a timeline where his brother’s alive and well._

_...Yeah. I know._

_So that just means we have to do our best to make this the last one, if we can._

Frisk smiles at Sans. They lean forward into a jog, arms out.

Sans, startled, says,

\---

“...You’re sparing me?”

Chara nodded once. Tears cut trails through the dust on their cheeks.

“Finally,” he breathed. “Buddy. Pal. I know how hard it must be to make that choice. To go back on everything you’ve worked up to.”

Chara glanced away and hung their head.

“I want you to know... I won’t let it go to waste.”

“I already killed everyone,” they croaked. That wasn’t really true, there was still Asgore and Asriel and the monsters Alphys had evacuated, but-- “How can you possibly manage that?”

But Sans just kept smiling. “C’mere, pal,” he prompted, arms open.

And in that moment, Chara thought that for a skeleton who had tried his damnedest to murder them into giving up, he was actually awful nice. They took a step forward. The human SOUL--no, _Frisk_ probably could’ve told them that. He’d been pretty nice to them all last timeline, aside from the occasional prank. They took another step. This was more than they deserved, but maybe... maybe they... They took ano--

A blockade of bones crunched through their SOUL, and pain shredded through their body. There was no warning and no escape, and as the life poured out of them, they gaped at Sans’s one blazing blue eye until their SOUL shattered.

“Geeeeeettt dunked on!!!” he hollered as they collapsed. Chara twitched, mouth agape, mind reeling. Their eyes were still wide open when Sans walked up to their prone body, and so they saw the grin of pure hatred on his face as their vision faded to black.

“If we’re really friends,” he said as if from a great distance, “you

\---

wanna take it eas--oof!”

Sans cuts himself off when Frisk throws a hug around him. He blinks rapidly as the child looks up at him.

“Same here,” they say firmly.

He breaks into a chuckle, and hugs them back one-armed. “Aw, heck,” he says with an affectionate smile. “I can’t win against you, kiddo.”

Frisk grins up at him.

“Sorry for being a downer there, buddy,” he adds, rubbing the back of his skull. “I know that’s not my usual style.”

Frisk shakes their head.

“You don’t mind? Well... I appreciate that. Heh... I really hope you can make this the last go-around. I’d hate to forget all this.”

Frisk nods, smile turning wistful.

“You’d hate it if I forgot all this too, huh?”

Another firm nod.

“That actually makes me feel a lot better.” He musses their hair. “Honestly, I’m proud of you, kid. You made mistakes in the past, but heck, haven’t we all? You at least learned from yours and you’re determined to do better. With the powers you’ve got, that’s the best any of us could ask for.”

Chara nearly cries at that, too. Frisk unhugs him, and Sans lets them go.

“You’ll do fine. You’ve got the heart and the will to do the right thing,” he continues. “So whether your buddy’s really on board, or you’ve got them handled some other way, I’m going to keep trusting you.” He tucks his hands in his hoodie pockets. “After all,

\---

if we’re really friends, you won’t come back.

For the thirteenth time, Chara’s eyes snapped open at the beginning of the corridor. They stared down it. Sans was nowhere to be seen. That would change if they tried to advance forward, they knew, but for the moment, they sat there and breathed.

_He killed me,_ they thought, numb. As the reality set in, fury leaked out. _He_ killed _me! I can’t believe he killed me, I spared him just like he wanted! What kind of jerk would do that?! What kind of..._

Their fury began to ebb. In its place, laughter bubbled up.

_Killing someone who just offered you mercy? What kind of jerk would_ do _that?_ Chara asked themselves rhetorically between giggles as they remembered all the monsters they’d done that to themselves. _Oh my god! Ohhh my god. That’s the greatest prank I’ve ever experienced. I can’t believe I just got pranked so hard. That was amazing. Oh my god! I could only hope to prank someone half as hard as he just did!_

Tears streamed down their face as laughter paralyzed them. They couldn’t remember how long it had been since they’d laughed that hard, but it was hard to think about anything just then anyway. God, they were such a scumbag. When they settled down enough to wipe their face with their sleeve, they felt it smudge, and pulled away to see wet dust stains.

Chara stared at it for a moment, panting. Then they muttered, “Let’s _cut_ straight to the point. I should’ve said that, that would’ve been way better.”

They panted a moment longer and wondered where Asriel was just then.

_I changed my mind, Chara. This isn’t a good idea after all,_ he had said.

_If we’re really friends, you won’t come back,_ Sans had said.

Their panting slowed. They shut their eyes and willed existence to blink out with a QUIT.

_Third one. You guided me this far. For that, I have been grateful,_ they said, taking on the formal tone Toriel had taught them long ago as they always did when addressing Them. The options to CONTINUE and RESET floated before them. _I would not have made it this far without Your help. We are partners. So why? I am a demon. The demon that comes when someone calls its name--and You called mine. Was this not what I was reborn to do? If... if not, for what purpose did You..._ They choked. _Why did You make me kill everyone?_

But the third one, though they knew They were there, still said nothing.

_Might You be..._ They paused, then edited themselves: _Are You tired, too?_

Nothing.

Chara’s breath finally evened out. They stared at their options. To keep walking this dusty trail, or to go back on all they’d worked up to and restart from the beginning...

They thought of Asriel, sobbing over them as they were dying of buttercup poisoning. He had said he didn’t want to do this anymore. He retracted that later after their parents had come to fret at their bedside, even as he admitted he didn’t like the plan, but at the time, Chara had been angry. They were going to free the monsters and punish the humans, and anyway, it was too late to back out. Now, they thought they understood how he’d felt: no amount of freedom or revenge is worth the life of someone you love.

Chara breathed out. The third one still didn’t weigh in. It was their choice.

So they chose to reach out and hit RESET.

_I won’t come back,_ they swore as the rewound timeline unfurled around them anew, pure white. _So maybe... this time... we really could be friends...?_

Frisk woke up yet again in a bed of golden flowers, and knew as soon as they look around that

\---

we’re friends,” Sans says. “You might not have gained any LOVE this time around, but you gained love.” He winks down at them. “That make any sense? ...Maybe not.”

Frisk shrugs, wobbles a hand, then smiles brightly.

“Heh. I’m still rooting for ya, kiddo. The rest is up to you now.”

Frisk nods, then advances forward. Sans steps aside for them, and they pass him by. When they look back over their shoulder, he’s already gone without a trace.

_Thanks, Sans,_ they whisper in unison with Chara.

Frisk pauses. _You really do want to be his friend, huh?_

_Yeah. I know he was talking to you, but... it made me feel better, too._

_I’m really glad to hear that, Chara. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more._

_Frisk, you’re fine. You’re_ better _than fine. Maybe Sans and me will never be friends, but that’s okay, because I’ve got you. I don’t know what I’d do without you._

Frisk blushes and comes to a stop in front of the door on the opposite end of the hallway. That means so much more to them than they can express, and they let that feeling beam through without trying to put it into words. Chara curls in it, and Frisk feels for a moment like someone is holding their hand.

_For a long time, I didn’t get why I woke up in your body with you,_ Chara says quietly. _Why did I come back to life? And why with you? But now I think I’ve figured it out. It’s so I can make things right... and I could only ever do that by helping you._ Frisk feels a squeeze on their hand. _Thank you, Frisk. C’mon--let’s go write that better ending._

Frisk squeezes back, not caring that it’s all in their head. That doesn’t make it any less real. _Yeah. This time for sure, Chara._

_Oh, and, uh... Frisk?_

_Yeah?_

_Just so... you know, you can hear the words, like, uh... like you told me..._

_...?_

Chara pauses. Frisk feels their pale pink embarrassment. _...Even if you’re not good, I love you, too._

If Frisk died in that moment, they would die happy. But, they swear silently to themselves as they return all the love Chara sends out, they won’t die. They’ll find a way to let everyone survive and live through to the end too. What they truly sought when they came to Mt. Ebott... they think they’ve finally found it.

As they push the door open and head for the throne room where Asgore awaits, knowing how far they’ve both come and how much their friends believe in them, and how much each of them believes in the other, fills them with determination.


	11. Goodbye, My Child

The first time Frisk had met Asgore, they were struck by both how big and how gentle he was. Here was the man that Toriel had told them would kill them, who Papyrus had told them was a big fuzzy pushover. In the end, they’d both been right. At the end of their first battle, Asgore had all but begged them to kill him, but they couldn’t bring themselves to do it. Chara had been in complete agreement.

Now, they’re struck by Asgore’s reaction when he sees them. The horror that overtakes his face, the way he drops his watering can with a clatter, forgotten. This is a man who’s murdered children just like them for the sake of bringing hope to his kingdom, and now has to do it again so he can go on to murder an entire race, just like he doesn’t want to do but feels he has to for the sake of his people. Though he may have done horrible things--though he might, in a few minutes, be about to try to kill them--Frisk can’t help but feel for him.

They know what it’s like to do things you know are awful, things you know are wrong, because you’ve been hurt and convinced it’s the only way.

“I so very much wish I could say, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ but... you know how it is,” he tells them with a resigned, weary smile.

“Why not?”

He blinks, taken aback.

“Let’s have a cup of tea together. Please?” Frisk presses. Undyne had told them that golden flower tea is his favorite, had encouraged them to talk to him and try to resolve things peacefully. Between their piece of pie and really, sincerely asking for that tea...

Well, they hope it’ll work. So does Chara, who anxiously awaits Asgore’s answer.

“Human...” Asgore’s smile strains. “I wish very much I could grant your request. But you must realize it is not that simple.”

“Please,” Frisk repeats.

“Human...”

“I’ll give you pie?”

Confusion crosses his face. Frisk takes the opportunity to dig into their pockets and pull out the slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie Toriel had made for them, still wrapped up nice and neat. They unwrap the top to show it off and hold up it up him, and his confusion morphs into a soft, gentle sort of agony.

“That smell...” he whispers. His knees shake, something Frisk can notice because they’re nearly at eye level with them. “Human, where did you...?”

Frisk regards him steadily, still holding the slice out. After a moment, Asgore covers his face with one hand and turns away. They suspect he doesn’t want them to see him cry.

“I am truly sorry,” he says another moment later, voice choked. “You are a kind child, but I cannot. I must not.”

_No,_ Chara whispers.

“I understand if you hate me for this. Know that if you wish to run away, I... I will not give chase.”

Frisk bows their head. _...Well?_

_It sure sounds tempting, doesn’t it? It’s better than before,_ Chara says, unenthusiastic.

_It is, yeah. But... if we do that... Asgore will stay here, alone and unhappy._

_...Yeah._

Frisk lifts their head and puts the slice of pie away. _Let’s see what we can do first._

“You will not?” Asgore says, seeing them shake their head. “No, I suppose you would not. You are far too determined to give up here.”

They follow him out of the throne room and to the entrance to the barrier. They SAVE, heart pounding, and follow Asgore inside. When he suggests, even encourages them to take care of any unsettled business first, they shake their head.

When the battle is engaged and Asgore has destroyed their means to show mercy, Frisk still fights defensively.

“You killed me once before already,” they tell him, and he nods gravely as if he understands what that means.

“I don’t want to fight you,” they tell him, and he shakes ever-so-slightly.

But in the end, they have no choice but to fight back.

\---

The first time Frisk had met Toriel, she was a beacon of light and reassurance in a strange world they’d unwittingly fallen into. Flowey had just tried to kill them, cackling the whole while, and she had scared him off with a blast of fire magic. Looking back, that must have been galling for Flowey, to be attacked by his own mother in defense of an unknown human child whom she immediately tried to take in.

“Why?” they’d asked her once they’d made it to Home, voice creaking from disuse.

“Whyever what, my child?” she’d asked, smiling gently at them.

“Why so... nice?”

“Why... Why would I not be?” Toriel wondered. If her smile changed any, it was only to become a bit more befuddled.

And Frisk had taken hold of her hand. It was so warm and soft, and when she patted their head, it was so gentle and loving. They ached inside, and looking back, part of that feeling must have been Chara’s, too.

“You can stay here as long as you like,” she reassured them, holding their hand back. “You will be safe and warm here, and I will provide as good a life for you as I can. I promise.”

And they wanted so much to accept her at face value, but they were scared. Here was the first person who had ever wanted them. Even if she was a monster--but who cared? The monsters here were nice, except for that one froggit that had slammed into them face-first after Toriel had left them alone. They’d struck it with their stick in a panic, and a whisper in their mind urged them to keep going until it stopped moving, to make _sure_ it wouldn’t hurt them again. They’d felt terrible afterwards, but it wouldn’t be until later that it would occur to them that they could load their SAVE and try again. At the time, it’d been enough to convince them that if she learned about that, she wouldn’t want them anymore. Even one death was enough to damn them.

So they had to leave. They had to, before she realized that they weren’t a good kid after all and she told them in no uncertain terms that they were no longer welcome in her house. Better to leave before hearing that _again_.

But to their surprise, when they asked the way out of the ruins, she tried to bar their way.

“Please, go back upstairs,” she’d begged them. “This is for your own good.”

But they refused.

“If you leave the Ruins, you will be attacked. You will be killed,” she’d stated. “I’ve seen it happen far too many times. I cannot allow it to happen again.”

But they refused.

“So you won’t do as I say, no matter what...? Hmph. You are just like the others. If you are so determined to leave, then prove to me you are strong enough to survive!” she declared, just before attacking them.

And they had not refused, though they’d wanted to. At the time, they hadn’t seen any other option. Running away wouldn’t solve anything, and she seemed to ignored their mercy. It had been a frightening experience. They had no idea what they were doing, and there was a voice in their head--they wouldn’t learn Chara’s name until much, much later--who had used their mouth to call her Mom on the phone, who had urged them to fight to protect themselves. Now the voice was silent and upset, and that just made everything worse.

_Please stop fighting,_ Frisk begged her internally as they hit her again with the toy knife, but she stood tall, resolute.

_Please!_ as they avoided the streams of fire magic.

_PLEASE!!_ as they brought down the plastic blade.

Maybe it was how badly they wanted the fight to end. Maybe they’d been more upset at her than they realized. But what had been meant to be a blow to encourage Toriel to stop fighting instead made her stop moving. They stumbled back and dropped the toy knife in horror when they saw how deeply they had cut.

But she only smiled regretfully and wheezed, “Yes... This way... I know... you shall not die... so easily...”

They’d watched in horror as her body dissolved into dust. They covered their mouth as her silvery SOUL floated up over her remains. They sobbed as that little heart broke in two, then shattered.

They’d stumbled through the doors in a daze. Flowey had been there, and they’d wondered if he was going to kill them. But he cackled at the look on their face and mocked them.

“You didn’t even TRY to spare her!” he jeered before sinking back into the ground.

_You mean we could have spared her?!_ demanded the voice in their head. _LOAD. NOW._

And Frisk did. It was the first time that it had occurred to them that they could. Maybe under different circumstances, they would have wondered why the voice that had wanted to fight was so insistent on sparing Toriel’s life, but at the time, they were beyond caring; they just wanted to undo the horrible thing they’d done to her. And this time, they refused to fight at all, and though it was tense, it eventually worked. They’d been so relieved, and squeezed tight when they gave her a hug goodbye.

_I’m so sorry,_ they wanted to tell her, but they didn’t dare. The voice in their head had already pointed out how creepy it would be if they’d told her they’d seen her die.

“Goodbye, my child,” she murmured to them. “I shall not forget you. Please... be safe.” Then she let them go and left, though not without a last look back.

Frisk’s heart ached, but far less than it had before. When they met Flowey again, they smiled at him--but not for long.

“I know what you did,” he taunted them. He made a face at them just like Toriel’s. “And you went back, because you regretted it.”

Their blood had gone cold.

That was _exactly_ what had happened.

_How did he know?_

\---

Now they know. They wonder if knowing will make a difference this time.

As they fight Asgore, whose magic is so similar to Toriel’s, it feels like it takes less time than it did the first timeline. When they bring the torn notebook down on him for the last time, they stay their blow with Chara’s help like they did the first timeline, leaving him on his knees and weak but still alive. When he tells them to take his SOUL and leave, they drop the notebook and fling their arms around his neck.

“Let’s get out of here,” they urge him. “Put the SOULs away. You can heal yourself, and we’ll have tea and pie. Please. _Please_.”

Astonishment reigns on his face, to be succeeded by a quiet kind of wonder. “To think you would spare me when I have hurt you so much...” he rumbles. Gently, he pulls their hands from him. “The look of hope in your eyes reminds me of the human who fell here so long ago...” Wonder is then succeeded by a bittersweet smile. “You truly are a kind child, human.”

Frisk tugs at his hands, trying to pull him up, pull him away. They think Flowey must be coming if he isn’t here already. Asgore doesn’t budge, though. He begins to once again offer to take care of them with his wife, to give them a home, to be a family. Inside, Chara howls at him to _get up, move, get away_ \--

When the ring of bullets entraps the king, his smile is deposed by horror. His last act is to push them out of harm’s way. Frisk lands among the shadows of the barrier and scrabbles upright in time to see his body dissolve to dust, to watch helplessly as that last waiting bullet shatters his SOUL. Inside them, Chara screams. They still can’t change his fate, for all their determination.

“Boy, you sure tried hard that time, didn’t’cha?” Flowey says cheerfully as the six human SOULs orbit him. He winks and sticks his tongue out. “You really ARE an idiot!”


	12. That's What We Have This Power For

Chara’s fury and despair makes bile rise in Frisk’s throat. They choke it down, clutch the heart locket to remind both of them what they’ve come all this way for, and roll upright.

“Flowey, why d’you have to do this?” Frisk pleads. “This isn’t what you want!”

_Frisk..._

“Wow, that’s pretty funny!” Flowey chirps. His eyes narrow. “You say that like you have _any idea whatsoever_ what I want.”

_Neither do you!_ Chara snaps.

“You want Chara,” they reply at the same time.

Flowey frowns. So does Chara inside them. For a moment, the orbit of the SOULs slows.

“I’m sorry. I can’t... be Chara for you.” Frisk braves a smile and attempts a step forward. They hold their hands out to show they aren’t armed. “But if you want a friend... I can be your friend. I _want_ to be your friend, Flowey.”

“Well, _I_ don’t want YOU!” he snaps, and it strikes Frisk how similar he can be to their companion. “You think you can look down on me all you want?! _Think again_!” The SOULs’s revolution speeds up; Flowey bares a wide, wicked grin. “Heeheeheehee... But if you really want to play THAT much... I’ve got a great game I’ve been itching to play with you!”

His sheer malice makes Frisk shiver. Maybe if Chara spoke with him directly, he’d calm down and stop what he’s doing. But...

_Why aren’t you asking me to deal with this for you?_ Chara murmurs.

_Because you said you don’t want to talk to him. We’ve all got things we can’t handle,_ Frisk replies. _And if I don’t talk to Flowey myself, we’ll never be able to understand each other. It’s okay, Chara. I’m not gonna make you do anything that makes you uncomfortable._

_Frisk... Okay. But if he attacks, I’ve got your back, okay?_

They smile a little in relief. Flowey narrows his eyes at them.

“I already know I can’t beat you, even with the human SOULs,” he’s saying. “Oh, you taught me that lesson _verrrry_ well your first playthrough. But I also know you’re high on the idea of yourself as some perfect little pacifist now... and I don’t care if I win anymore; I just want to make you _suffer_.” His face turns grotesque, all jagged teeth and bulging eyes and lolling tongue. “So guess what! I’m going to destroy them ONE by ONE right in FRONT of you until you BREAK!”

His diabolical cackling fills the twilit air as the SOULs come to an abrupt halt. A circle of seed-like bullets encircles the orange SOUL. Frisk gasps and lunges for it, but they trip and fall flat on their face. When they twist around to look back over their shoulder, they see vines entwined around their ankles. Yanking their feet gives them no give, and kicking back just makes the vines squeeze hard enough to make them gasp.

So Frisk reaches for Flowey and the orange SOUL in desperation, but they’re just too far away. It’s less than a foot’s distance, but it may as well be a mile. There’s nothing they can do as the bullets land and shatter it.

“Oooh, that’s too bad,” Flowey chirps, eyes riveted on their agonized face with a malicious grin. “The kid who had this SOUL was real feisty, did you know that? They weren’t scared of anything! Can you imagine? It was SO dumb. They wore their stupid bandanna like a badge of pride, and to the very end, they thought they could punch their way out of any problem. But they still ended up dead, just like the rest!” He waggles a root. “So let this be a lesson to you, human: bravery gets you nothing but an early grave.”

Another band of seed-bullets rings the yellow SOUL. Frisk lunges again, to the same effect as before.

“ _This_ kid was real high-and-mighty. They killed monsters, just like me and you! But they had this idea that you should only kill _bad_ monsters, and if you didn’t show mercy to the rest, that made _you_ bad. What a hypocrite, am I right?” Flowey rolls his eyes. “They probably thought they were some kind of lone star sheriff or whatever, what with that dumb cowboy hat and their stupid peashooter. Too bad the only kind of justice in this world is ‘might makes right’!”

The yellow SOUL shatters. Frisk cringes and chokes back a cry of despair.

“Ooooh, _here’s_ a wimpy one,” Flowey continues cheerfully as the green SOUL ends up at the center of the next bullet ring. “This kid was real friendly with most monsters! Just wanted to make everyone a nice big meal, even though they kept burning half their food on their frying pan and spilling the rest all over their apron. How saccharine can you get?” He bares a toothy grin. “But kindness means NOTHING to someone who really wants you dead!!”

_I’ve had enough,_ says Chara, and their voice trembles with something other than rage. _Frisk, he doesn’t have control of the timeline, so he can’t actually keep us here. Let’s load and try again with Asgore._

And somehow, that makes something click in Frisk’s mind. They blink away their tears, letting their streak down their cheeks, and reconsider what Flowey is trying to tell them.

_Frisk? What’s wrong?_ They pause. _Do you have an idea?_

_Y-yeah. I think so._

_...Okay. Let’s do it your way, then._

As bullets ring the aqua heart, Frisk pushes themselves up to their knees, rubbing their face dry. Then they rest their hands on their pants and watch Flowey with a grimace.

“What? You think that pitiful look is gonna get me to stop?” Flowey taunts them. “Boy, you’re cut from the same cloth as this kid!” He points a leaf at the aqua SOUL. “They thought they were so cutesy-wootsie with their stupid ribbon. It made me sick! And a _plastic_ knife? Really? The only way you’d cut anything with that is by accident!” He cackles. “They could’ve waited forever for what they wanted and it wouldn’t have done them any good. Because the only reward for patience is more of the same endless NOTHING!”

The bullets make contact, and the SOUL cracks and crumbles. Frisk holds back a shudder as Chara grimly watches with them. For the first time, they both notice how closely Flowey watches them after a SOUL breaks. This time, his expression twists with annoyance.

“Stop trying to pretend you’re not bothered,” he snaps. “You’re so transparent. Just like THIS stupid brat!!” The blue SOUL is up next, and the seed bullets dance in midair around it. “They thought they were SO original, always twirling around in their stupid tutu and their dumb silk slippers. They didn’t let other people provoke them into a reaction either. But refusing to compromise on who you are just makes you predictable, just like all the other losers in this rotten world! So take a good look at what your integrity gets you!!”

This time, Chara starts to get it too. Neither of them smile and neither of them cry, but neither of them look away when the blue SOUL shatters.

By now, Flowey is outright agitated. “What’s with you?! You’re supposed to be crying and wailing! Come on! Beg me to stop!”

“Please stop, Flowey,” Frisk says dutifully.

“Not like THAT! Say it like you mean it!!”

They purse their lips a little. “I _do_ mean it.”

“Then why don’t you load?!” Flowey rasps, boggling his eyes at them. Bullets ring the last SOUL, shivering purple over his head. “You could stop me anytime you want to! All you have to do is run back to your SAVE!”

Frisk squeezes their knees. They knew it. “That won’t _really_ stop you. I’ll still have to come back here and deal with you. You know that, too.”

“Nngh... This kid was annoyingly logical like that too,” Flowey hisses. “They took down notes on everything, even though they could barely see through those ugly dirty glasses of theirs. What do you think you’ll accomplish by persevering, huh?! NOTHING!” The pellets make contact, and the purple SOUL breaks and vanishes. “Nothing EVER changes! EVER!!” Flowey seethes for a few seconds. Then he casts his eyes to one side. “...No matter what you do.”

Frisk is quiet. The barrier hums around the two of them, now alone with each other. Sorrow colors their thoughts as surely as the seven SOULs they had to watch be destroyed, but it also strengthens their resolve. They rest their hand on the locket hanging from their neck and try to decide on their next words. Their fingers brush against the engraved letters, and they stare down at the pendant in realization. Then they hold it out to show to Flowey.

“You know whose this is too,” they say, “don’t you?”

The look he gives them is positively filthy.

“And you know what’s written on it,” they add.

“So what?” he snaps.

They let the locket drop and pull the worn dagger from their sleeve. Flowey tenses, then peers at them when they set it down at their knees. Much to Chara’s alarm, Frisk calls their own SOUL out--this time, of their own will--and lets it float redly between them. It’s a funny feeling, letting it emerge for peace rather than battle. It tickles in a warm kind of way, which (as Chara would say) _heartens_ them. They give him a gentle smile.

“Chara had a bright red SOUL like mine, didn’t they?” they prompt.

“Stop it,” he snaps again, but this time, his voice wavers.

“You were really excited when you thought I was them, huh?” Frisk continues. “Even though you don’t have a SOUL of your own. And now that you know I’m not, you tried your hardest to hurt me as much as possible, to get back at me for not being them.”

“Stop it!”

They hesitate. “Flowey... I’m sorry, but I got to ask. Do you... feel something when you’re around me, too?”

“STOP IT!” he screams. “You’re not Chara. You’re not Chara, you’re NOT! Stop reminding me of them! Stop wearing their stuff! You think you could replace them?! You can’t! No one can! They meant EVERYTHING to me, and they’re GONE! They’re gone FOREVER!!” Outburst over, he pants, trembling, until he wilts face-down. “They’re gone forever,” he whispers, voice crackling like dead leaves. “I’m never going to see them again.”

Chara is silent, but Frisk can feel their grief and shame and guilt as they’re caught between wanting to speak and being afraid to. They take a deep breath and send out reassurance to Chara as they sit up straighter. They want to reach out to Flowey too, but they don’t dare to; they don’t want to scare him off. Instead, they coax their SOUL back into their body.

“I’m sorry,” Frisk echoes. “I don’t know how much it must hurt to have lost someone you loved so much. But I think I get something else important about you now. You’ve gotten so used to loading and resetting that it feels like nothing matters anymore, right? Even if you hurt someone, even if you kill them and everyone else, you could just load and nobody would remember it. Or you.” They lean forward a little. “But _I_ will.”

Flowey tilts his head up just enough for his face to remain in shadow. “What are you trying to say?”

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” Frisk whispers. “Let’s be friends.”

“I hate you. I _hate_ you. Don’t you _get_ that? I hate your stupid guts!!” he snarls, face contorting into a show of rage. “I’ll just backstab you! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill _everyone_! I’ll kill everyone you love!! Your only choice is to kill me first!”

They shake their head.

“Come on!! You already killed me before! It’s easy when you’ve done it before, right?!”

They shake their head harder.

“Stop acting all self-righteous! You killed EVERYONE last timeline! You only stopped because Sans stopped you! Don’t try to pretend you’re good and kind now!!”

“I...” They clasp their hands in their lap. “You remember in the first timeline, when I killed Toriel and loaded? And you called me out on that?” They offer a tentative smile. “You’re right. I’ve done a lot of horrible things. Just because I reset, doesn’t really erase them. But that doesn’t mean we can’t both do better.”

He rears back, expression uncertain.

“I’m really sorry I killed you before,” they continue. “But you got me back, didn’t you?”

He looks hunted. “Th-this is a trick. It’s got to be a trick. You just want to make nice so you can get your picture-perfect ending!”

“I do want a better ending,” they admit, “but I really want to be friends with you, too.”

“I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it! You don’t know ANYTHING about me!!” His expression contorts again. “I’ve had enough. Maybe I can’t beat or break you, but I CAN keep you from your precious happy ending! You’ll NEVER escape the Underground!” A shower of seed-bullets encircles them. “Mercy your way out of THIS, if you’re so determined!!”

“Wait, no, please!” Frisk yelps as the bullets close in on them. “Please!!”

_Call his name!_ Chara urges. _You know the truth. You figured it out for yourself!_

Frisk squeezes their eyes shut and shouts, “ASRIEL!”

This time, the bullets never land. Frisk holds their breath until they hear a _sproing_ ; then they crack an eyelid open. The bullets are gone, but Flowey’s still there. He’s staring at them with an expression they can’t quite describe. They feel the pressure on their ankles ease up, and they realize without looking that his vines have come undone.

“What,” he croaks, “did you call me?”

“Asriel,” they whisper. “Your real name. Like you asked me to.”

For a second, he looks hunted. No... scared? Vulnerable? Frisk isn’t exactly sure, because he soon assumes a sarcastic smile. “My real name? Is _that_ what you think it is? Idiot.” He bobs left to right, as if to show himself off. “Do I _look_ like a goat prince to you? Or were you just making a stab in the dark?”

“You’re Asriel. Asriel Dreemurr,” Frisk repeats, voice dead certain.

“Y-you couldn’t possibly--” he starts, and although he keeps smirking, his brief stammer betrays him. “Asriel Dreemurr is _dead_. He _died_ bringing his human friend’s corpse to the surface. How could he be me, huh? Answer that, if you think you’re so clever!”

“I dunno,” Frisk admits. Even Chara doesn’t know the answer to that. “But you are. I’ll bet my SOUL on it. Chara was your human friend. That’s why you kept thinking I was them.”

Flowey stares at them blankly for several long seconds. Then he affects a smile and glances to one side. “...Heh.” He looks back at them. “I’ve reset so many times, I lost count a long time ago. I’ve tried everything. I’ve saved everyone. I’ve killed everyone. I’ve seen _everything_ this world has to offer.” His smile fades, replaced by a softly anguished expression that Frisk doesn’t think is entirely faked. “...Until you came. Nobody’s ever figured that out on their own before. You’re the first.”

They rest their hand over the heart-shaped locket. “I can’t be Chara for you, Asriel. I wouldn’t want to try. But d’you wanna be friends anyway?”

Flowey’s face shifts into the fanged one from when Frisk had pet him before. They hadn’t recognized it then, but now they know it’s an approximation of Asriel’s. They wonder if he realizes he’s doing it. “Why? Why are you being so nice to me, after I was so cruel to you...?” He droops. “I don’t understand. I can’t understand.”

Frisk waits, hands folded on their lap.

After a long moment, Flowey peeks up at them. His face is back to normal, or at least normal for him. “You... really wanna be my friend...?”

They nod, they and Chara daring to hope.

“Heh...” He glances to one side, smiling. “You really mean it, don’t you...”

They nod again.

“You’re so soft-hearted. How’d you get so soft after killing so many times...?”

Frisk hesitates. Then they shrug. “People make mistakes, Asriel. But we can fix them. That’s what we have this power for.”

Flowey pulls himself upright and peers at them. “Is that so?”

They nod. “At least, I think so.”

Flowey considers this for a long time. Frisk lets him. Chara waits on pins and needles. After an eternity has passed, he begins to smile again. It’s only a little strained.

“I think...” he says slowly, “I might want to be friends with you now, too.”

They gasp and lean forward. “Really?!”

“But I’ve been such a stinker, I just won’t feel right if I don’t make it up to you,” he continues, glancing away. “For all the trouble I’ve caused, I mean.”

_That’s all right--_ Frisk begins to say, but Chara cuts in: _Let him._

_Chara?_

_I... get how he feels, finally. Let him make it up to you, Frisk. He won’t be able to get past what he’s done otherwise._

And Frisk gets it too. They get it, because that’s exactly how Chara feels... and it’s exactly how Frisk feels. They might be the only one between the three of them with their own SOUL anymore, and maybe it’s just sentiment, but they feel for the first time like all their hearts are one.

“I know,” Flowey says, watching them. “You want a better ending, right? One where Dad--I mean, Asgore lives, too.”

Frisk’s breath catches in their throat; Chara pays rapt attention. They nod vigorously.

“I think I know how you can get it,” he continues. “You’re pretty good friends with most monsters right now, but you could be even _better_ friends with Alphys.”

At first, they don’t see the connecting logic; then they remember that Alphys is the Royal Scientist. She might have some insight into how to get through to Asgore peacefully.

“Try getting closer to her,” Flowey emphasizes. His smile brightens. “That should get you where you need to be.”

A funny feeling rises from their chest and bubbles into their throat. When it seeps into their eyes and makes their vision water, they realize what it is. Finally, they have the last key to unlock a better ending, and the one who gave it to them is the one they want to help the most. Finally, they can make up for the past; finally, they can make amends for their sins.

No, these aren’t just their own feelings. These are...

“Aw, geez,” Flowey utters. “Aw, _geez_ ,” he repeats when the child utters a sob. “Look--don’t get all emotional on me, okay?”

The child lifts their head, and tears spill to the ground.

“Asriel,” Chara croaks. “I--” Their voice breaks off with a liquid squeak.

“Aw, geez,” Flowey sighs a third time. “Did you _have_ to make with the waterworks?”

\---

Chara had always hated how quick they were to cry. They hated it because their human parents punished them for it, but they couldn’t help it, weak and shameful as they thought it was. When they came to the Underground, it made them feel a lot better when they realized Asriel was an even bigger crybaby than they were, which ironically made it easier for them to keep their own tears at bay. That was good, because having a best friend (having any friend at all) to show off for had made them even more reckless.

“Seriously, Ree, you need to stop crying over every little thing,” they told him as they pressed gauze to their knee, as if they wouldn’t have been bawling were Asriel not doing it for them. The rubbing alcohol had made Chara hiss hard enough; wads and wads of discarded cotton were soaked with it and their blood. Asriel’s magic wasn’t developed enough yet to heal them, and at that point it was still ingrained in them not to ask adults for help.

“B-b-but Chara, y-you’re bleeding s-so mu-hu-huuuch!” Asriel sobbed. He rubbed at his eyes, but it did nothing to stem the flood.

Chara smiled. It genuinely made them happy to see someone care if they were hurt. They reached for a roll of bandages and wrapped their knee up with the speed and ease of experience. “It’s fine,” they told him with a confidence they could only feel because it made them feel strong to have someone to look out for. (To, although they hadn’t realized this about themselves back then, feel superior to.) “See? Already all cleaned and wrapped up.”

They showed off their freshly-bandaged wound, but Asriel didn’t stop crying. Chara sighed, somewhere between fond and mildly annoyed. They’d just fallen on a rock and banged themselves up a little, but Asriel acted like it was the end of the world. He hadn’t been nearly this upset when they’d first fallen into the Underground. That wasn’t even that long ago... even if it felt like it was.

“You’re such a crybaby,” they concluded.

“N-no I’m not!!”

“Yeah you are.” They leaned forward to bump their forehead on Asriel’s. “Idiot,” they added affectionately.

Asriel flung his arms around them, and they hugged him back with a laugh.

\---

“Haha... I-I’m such a crybaby,” Chara blubbers around a tremulous smile, “right?”

“Yeah... you are.” Flowey’s smile back is both bittersweet and nostalgic. “Idiot.”

Chara reaches out for him with both arms for a soft hug. But Flowey rears away, smile vanishing. When they don’t stop, once they get too close, he smacks them hard with a leaf.

“Hey, hands off, pal!” he snaps as they snatch their hand back. He pauses at the look on their face, then forces a new smile. “I mean, uh... let’s not get too touchy-feely too soon, all right? We still barely know each other. Right, friend?”

“...Right,” Chara murmurs. The child bows their head. A moment later, they wipe away their tears and smile down at him apologetically. “Sorry,” Frisk adds.

Flowey frowns, blinking rapidly, one eyebrow raised. Then he glances to one side and smiles sardonically. “Whatever. No big deal.” He beams back up at them. “Now you get going, all right? Remember: make sure you’re close friends with _everybody_ this time! Then you’ll finally get the ending you deserve!”

Frisk nods and rolls up to their feet. Flowey burrows into the ground and disappears, and they walk past where he had been to the gateway beyond.

_You okay, Chara?_ they wonder. _You were pretty hurt when he--_

_Whatever. It’s fine. You’re the only one I need, Frisk._

That’s as not-fine a response as Frisk can imagine, but of course their feelings would be hurt after their best friend literally slapped them away. Maybe it would’ve gone better if Chara had made it clearer they’re here, but Frisk won’t bring that up when they already feel lousy.

_We’re a little closer now,_ they instead say, keeping positive and encouraging. _Asriel helped us this time, Chara! If he’s not going to try to stop us anymore, then we really can write that new ending now. It’ll all work out this time. I can feel it!_

_...We won’t have to reset this time, either,_ Chara admits. _We can just load and head back to the lab._

_And if Asriel hadn’t said anything, we’d still have no idea what to do!_

_Yeah... I know he’s tired of everything he’s been doing. Maybe... maybe he wants to see a better ending now, thanks to you. Maybe he wants to be better now, too._

_Yeah! And once we’re better friends with Alphys and we save Asgore, you’ll have another chance to make up with him, I’m sure of it. I think he just got jumpy there!_

_Yeah._ Chara perks up. _Heheh. Okay. All right, let’s nail it this time, Frisk!_

Heck _yeah!_

They stride together through the gateway and into the darkness to see their ending. Knowing they’ve finally found the way to improve it... they’re filled with determination.

\---

END of ARC 1 -FRISK-


	13. Arc 2 -Chara-: You Must Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of Arc 2 -Chara-. There’s only a few things left to do before Frisk can write that happier ending they’re hoping for, but they and Chara have different ideas on what to do once it’s all over. They agree on one last adventure before bringing everything to a close, but who gains the most from this detour, really?

It’s a bit of a hike to get out of the Core, but Frisk does so in high spirits. The ending they saw confirmed that there was still something Alphys was sad about--whatever it was must be whatever Flowey had been talking about. Plus, once they loaded their SAVE, Asgore was still there before the barrier. Obvious, maybe, but it made them and Chara feel better. This time, they took him up on his offer to take care of unfinished business first.

They intend on heading directly to Alphys’s lab once they’ve made it to the elevator, but nearly the moment they leave the Core, their phone rings. It’s from Undyne, and she wants their help with something. Frisk had wanted to see her and Papyrus again anyway, so they accept, although technically speaking Undyne doesn’t really give them the opportunity to decline.

As they make their way to where the riverperson waits, they wonder, _So when it’s all over... do you think we’ll be able to go back to the surface?_

_I dunno. I’m not really in a hurry to live with humans again,_ says Chara.

They smile and wave at 01, 02, and the Nice Cream Guy as they pass by, then hang a left for the elevators. _That’s true... I wouldn’t mind staying here and living with everybody. Maybe... maybe this time, we can stay with Toriel for good._

_Yeah... I’d like that. Maybe we can explain to her about Flowey and Asriel. I don’t want him being left out._

_Me neither._ Frisk enters the elevator and presses a button. _I wonder if it’s possible to break the barrier while not removing our SOUL? Like... maybe we could use the other six SOULs to break it, and just... not die._

_I’m not sure. You’re not exactly a magician, Frisk, and neither am I. And we’d need a monster’s help to do it anyway. Humans can’t absorb human SOULs, just like how monsters can’t absorb monster SOULs._

_Oh. Maybe Asgore can help, then... Oh, or maybe Flowey would be better. I think if we_ can _leave, we should take him with us at the least. Even if we can’t help everyone out of the Underground, I think Sans and everyone would be a lot happier without him and us saving and loading and resetting._

_...Do you actually want to leave, Frisk?_

_I dunno. I’d like to stay with Toriel and everyone, but... I’m a little worried about the guy who was taking care of me. I don’t want him to get in trouble because I went missing. And there are books I miss! We still have to read each other’s favorites. You remind me a little of Campanella, I think, or maybe Scorpio. And we could always come back, right?_

_So you_ do _want to leave._

Frisk hesitates. _...Just for a little while. And I don’t want to hurt anyone to do it._

Chara is quiet. Then: _Well, if that’s what you need to do._

Frisk brightens as they walk out of the elevator. _You don’t mind?_

_Ehn... Hey, what’s that?_

Frisk looks up. There’s a gray person nearby, staring into space. They recall having run into someone like that before around the elevators. That person was a little weird and creepy, but they didn’t actually do any harm, they just vanished. They approach with a smile and wave, then wave again in front of the gray person’s face when they don’t react.

“It makes sense why Asgore took so long to hire a new Royal Scientist,” the gray person says, staring straight out at nothing. Frisk turns, wondering if there’s something they’re missing, but there’s nothing there. They listen as the stranger goes on: that the old Royal Scientist, Dr. Gaster, had been brilliant, but he’d fallen into his creation... They conclude, “Will Dr. Alphys end up the same way?”

Frisk purses their lips. _Is Alphys going to be okay?_ they wonder.

_The last weirdo was saying something like this too, huh?_ Chara remarks, perking with bright yellow interest. _About how that W.D. Gaster guy was shattered across time and space or something. That guy just up and disappeared. Creepy, huh?_

_You don’t sound creeped out. You sound excited._

_Because it’s a mystery! An adventure! You like exploring, right, Frisk? We should check this out!_

_You weren’t nearly this interested the last time._

_Well, uh, yeah, but... Hey, now we have a better idea of what’s going on! If Alphys is connected, maybe this has something to do with what Asriel was saying! C’mon, you can’t say it definitely doesn’t!_

And that’s true, but Frisk has a feeling that’s just an excuse. It’s not hard to figure out why, though. Chara hates humans, and they know perfectly well why. They’re probably not in a hurry to go back to the surface. Or maybe they’re not ready for this to be over. Maybe it was thoughtless of Frisk to admit they want to go back, even if just for a bit.

...But it’s true; Frisk _does_ like exploring. Once last adventure before hanging out with Alphys and saving Asgore sounds like fun.

_Okay. Maybe you’re right,_ they say, smiling slowly as they wave again to the gray person and walk past. _I dunno where we could even start looking into this, though._

_There could be something in the Core? We could try backtracking._

_I want to talk to Undyne first. We need to come back this way anyway, so we can just do it when we come back._

_Okay! Works for me, Frisk._

Yeah. Chara definitely just wants to put off the ending. Frisk sighs a little, smiling ruefully. Well... since Chara has no choice but to follow Frisk where they go, it’s the least they can do to make them feel better about it. Maybe it’ll help them make their own mind up on where they go and what they do, too.

\---

The trip back to the river takes them past Alphys’s lab, and just in case, they try to go in. The door won’t open, though, and nobody answers when they knock. It’s worrying, but there’s nothing they can do. They touch the SAVE point and head south for the river, then ask the riverperson for a ride to Snowdin.

While on the way, the hooded figure sing-songs, “Tra la la. Beware of the man who talks in hands.”

Neither Frisk nor Chara understands what that means, so they shrug it off.

\---

“Hey, nerd!!” Undyne cheers when Frisk arrives just outside Papyrus’s house. “I’ve got a favor I need to ask you!”

“Hello, human!!!” Papyrus effuses, grinning broadly as he waves an arm rapidly. “I’m so happy for you! You got to see Mettaton debut his new body live!! You’re so lucky!!! I liked it better when he was a sexy rectangle, though.”

Frisk smiles back and waves to them both, despite both their friends being immediately in front of them. They look at Undyne, who’s holding an envelope, and tilt their head inquisitively.

“Yeah, yeah, Mettaton’s the bomb or whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes. She grins toothily at Frisk and holds the envelope out to them. “More importantly, I need you to bring this letter to Alphys for me!”

They take it and turn it around. It is indeed addressed to Alphys. They sniff the paper. It smells like... marsh water?

“HEY! Don’t go smelling other people’s letters!!” Undyne demands.

“Nyeh heh heh heh! Undyne’s embarrassed because she spritzed it with Alphys’s favorite perfume!” Papyrus declares. He elbows Undyne. “She’s gonna love it!!!”

“I-I did NO--okay, maybe I did something like that,” Undyne admits, blushing. Frisk stares in amazement. She actually looks... bashful?? “BUT THAT’S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU, PUNK!!!” she roars, jabbing a finger at Frisk and making them jump. “You read that letter, and I’ll KILL YOU!!”

“Nyeh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh!! Undyne writes a lot of letters to Alphys!” Papyrus tells Frisk as they look over the envelope dubiously. “But she’s never satisfied with what she writes! She’ll get halfway to her lab and change her mind and come back to rewrite it!”

“NGAAAAHHH!!! NOBODY ASKED YOU!!!” Undyne roars, grabbing the skeleton in a headlock and giving him a ferocious noogie. As Papyrus flails helplessly, she turns a nervous smile Frisk’s way. “So, uh... just give that to Alphys for me? Please?”

Frisk nods, fighting off a smile, and tucks the envelope carefully into their pocket. Then they watch Undyne wrestle with Papyrus and soon lose their battle against mirth. They have to cover their face with one hand to hide the grin that’s conquered it.

“What’re you waiting around for?! The sooner you go, the sooner it’s over with!!” Undyne insists as she squats on Papyrus’s shoulders and drags his legs over her shoulders.

Papyrus waves an arm wildly and slaps the snowy ground repeatedly. “Human!!! I have this perfectly under control!!! I definitely don’t need any help!!!” he yelps.

Frisk squats down, takes his flailing gloved hand between their own, and looks him deep in the eyes. “I believe in you,” they tell him gravely.

Inside their head, Chara howls with laughter.

Papyrus blushes, an impressive feat for a monster with no skin... or blood. “Wowie!” he gushes. “The human believes in me...! I could take a hundred of Undyne’s noogies now!!!”

“HEY! That’s MY bestie you’re talking about there!” Undyne snaps. She winks at Frisk and grins broadly. “You could take, like, a THOUSAND of my noogies after encouragement like that!!”

“You’re right!!” Papyrus gasps. “Bring it, Undyne!! My body is ready!!!”

“YOU’RE ON!!!”

Frisk laughs and backs up a few paces as the two monsters continue wrestling with each other. That kind of play is a little too intense for them, but it’s fun just to watch them. Still, they have a letter to deliver. Maybe now, Alphys will open the door for them.

_Frisk, your friends are_ hilarious _,_ Chara cheers. _I wish I could be their friend, too. Especially Undyne’s! She’s the coolest._

Frisk hangs a right after the library. _Maybe after we hang out with Alphys, we could all have a sleepover? I think that’d be fun! I could introduce you to everybody!_

_Uh... You better not. I don’t wanna make it weird. Especially if Sans is there._

That’s true. Frisk decides to drop it.

They take the ferry to Hotland, hit the SAVE point, and slip the letter under the lab door. They’re about to leave when they hear Alphys on the other side, and decide to wait for her to react. Unfortunately, she mistakes the letter as being from them, one thing leads to another, and then they’re on a date with Alphys to the dump.

It’s pretty awkward. This is not at all what Frisk came here to do. She looks cute in that dress, though. When Undyne passes by and Alphys hides before she can be spotted, it becomes clearer to them what they’re meant to do. Mettaton’s quiz revealed that Alphys has a crush on Undyne, and if Alphys thought Frisk wanted to go on a date because of the contents of Undyne’s letter, the feeling’s _got_ to be mutual. It’s so cute that the second they realize it, they’re hype to play matchmaker. Even Chara’s into it, though their colorful commentary is that it’s so cute they could puke rainbows. How to help Alphys talk to Undyne, though?

_Let’s roleplay it,_ Frisk suggests.

Obviously _let’s roleplay,_ Chara co-suggests.

It’s sort of a disaster, but it’s the fun kind of disaster like burning down Undyne’s house was. Chara shamelessly suggests the most aggressively hilarious lines possible and Frisk shamelessly says them, complete with winks and fingerguns. It ends with Alphys screaming about how she’s totally going to smooch Undyne, Undyne dunking her into the trash, Papyrus taking Alphys out for a vigorous ten-mile jog, and Frisk reassuring Undyne that, yes, anime _is_ Real. It’s a rousing success in every way except the romantic one.

_OH MY GOD YOU USELESS FISH-WOMAN, JUST_ SMOOCH _HER ALREADY!_ Chara yells as Frisk parts ways with Undyne. _YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!!_

They have to stick a fist in their mouth to keep from laughing. It kind of works. The better laugh suppressant is the call they get from Papyrus a minute later, who not-so-subtly hints that maybe not all is well with Alphys and they should go visit her, like, immediately.

_Did something go wrong?_ Frisk wonders.

Duh _, something went wrong! There were no fish smooches!_

_Oh my god, Chara._

_This is your fault, you know. You’ve influenced me with your flirty ways._

Frisk snorts. _You just want Alphys to get a girlfriend._

_Guilty as charged!_ they chirp. _Though technically, I want_ Undyne _to get a girlfriend. I don’t like Alphys that much, but Undyne does, so whatever. What matters is that she’s happy._

_You really like Undyne, huh?_

_Well, yeah. She’s a true heroine._ Chara sobers. _She wouldn’t give up on protecting the Underground from us, even after she started melting. You might not believe this, but I... kind of admire her._

Frisk thinks back to the first timeline, when the two of them had killed Undyne together. They’d felt so awful about it that they’d barely noticed that Chara had been upset, too. As for the second timeline, they don’t really remember that much at all... just a nonstop rain of spears and death after death after death. They wouldn’t have thought that Chara respects her, but then, they wouldn’t have thought that Chara wanted to be Sans’s friend, either.

_I believe it,_ they reply, because they have no reason not to. _But anyway, that call sounded serious. Papyrus was acting really stiff. Alphys might be upset... We’d better go see her._

_Hrm. I wonder if we should’ve gone to see Gaster before delivering the letter?_ Chara muses. _We might’ve done things out of order._

_Oh, you think so?_ Frisk wonders.

_Yeah. Let’s try loading and doing that first._

_Hmm... I don’t know..._

_Oh, c’mon,_ Chara insists. _Worst case scenario, it has nothing to do with her and we get to try getting Alphys and Undyne to smooch again. What could go wrong?_

_Well, okay,_ Frisk concedes. It’s definitely possible that maybe if they’d picked different choices, Alphys might be on a date right now, so there’s no harm in loading and trying again. And if they learn something new about Alphys along the way, that can only help.

So they quit and load, and after the usual darkness entombs them, they find themselves back in Hotland right in front of Alphys’s lab, Undyne’s letter still in their pocket. Of course, it’s only after they do that that they realize they don’t know where to go to even try to find Gaster. Walking around Hotland seems like their best bet--the other two gray people just showed up out of nowhere--and they _do_ manage to find another one, a giant head with a cracked smile who says it’s rude to talk about someone who’s listening, but after that there’s nothing at all. Eventually, Frisk is too worn out to keep walking, and they take a break to sit down near the elevator, fanning themselves with a hand.

_Any ideas?_ they ask their companion.

_Hrm. Maybe we’re looking in the wrong--huh?_

Chara goes silent. Frisk waits a moment, then asks, _Something wrong, Chara?_

_Did you hear anyone else just now?_

_Huh? No, why?_

_Because the third one just said something._

Frisk stills and listens very carefully. The only sound is the distant hisses and groans of machinery and the slow wobble of lava below. _Nothing. Sorry._

_It’s fine. I’ll just pass on the message,_ Chara says, sounding resigned. _Anyway, They said if we want to find Gaster, we should look in Waterfall._

_Waterfall?_ Frisk echoes. _Not Hotland? Why?_

Chara pauses. _Uh... He exists everywhere and nowhere... but the only place to find a door to reach him... is in Waterfall,_ they conclude.

_Oh, uh, okay. I guess it’s hidden?_

_Very hidden, apparently. It won’t appear normally. Or, uh, at all, normally. It’s in a hallway next to that table with the crystallized cheese, but the hallway usually won’t appear._

_So how do we get to it?_

Chara pauses again. Then they gasp. _You can_ do _that?!_ Another pause. _You’ve ALREADY done it?! Wow! I knew You were strong, but I had no idea You were_ that _strong!_

_What? What?_

_They say They can crack apart reality!_

_Woah,_ Frisk breathes, eyes widening.

_They’ve got limits on what They can do, but They can at least give us a chance to find the door Gaster’s hiding behind. Wow, Frisk! This is so cool!_

But the more Frisk thinks about that, the more uneasy they get. Has something that scary been lurking inside their body this whole time?

_Is this really safe?_ they wonder.

_Sure, sure! I mean, They said They already cracked reality before and we’re all still here, so it should be just fine!_

_No, I mean... didn’t They, you know..._

Chara sobers. _Are you talking about how They encouraged me to kill?_

Frisk says nothing.

They sigh. _I get why you’re worried, but I told you, They were just trying to help me get what I wanted. Now They’re trying to help _you_ get what you want! It’s okay. You can trust Them._

Technically this is what Chara wants and Frisk is going along with it, but since they’re interested too, they don’t debate the point. _Do_ you _trust Them?_

_One hundred percent!_

That’s a rousing endorsement, coming from Chara. They don’t trust lightly. They must have good reason for it, too, after they had that argument with Them at MTT Resort. _Okay,_ Frisk says, feeling better. _The table with the crystallized cheese, right? I know right where that is!_

So they head south past Alphys’s lab and the SAVE point, approach the riverperson, and request a trip to Waterfall. Once again, they climb aboard the ferry, and once again, they take off.

“Tra la la,” the riverperson sing-songs. “Beware of the woman who came from the other world.”

Frisk tilts their head as the boat glides along the water. Sometimes the riverperson says the oddest things.

\---

From the Waterfall stop, Frisk passes by Napstablook’s house, gets a ride from the little bird across a disproportionately large gap, and walks through the gem-studded hall where Sans pranked them with a telescope that gave them a red ring around their eye. Chara muses that he must have given up on ever seeing the stars if he was willing to sacrifice its functionality for a gag. Frisk thinks on this as they stop briefly to admire the view on the southern wall.

The table with the mystic crystal-encased cheese is just past there. Frisk uses the SAVE point, then looks around.

_So now what?_ they wonder.

_Okay, They’re going to do Their thing. Hang tight a minute._

So Frisk does. Nothing in particular seems to be happening, so they walk over to the mouse hole, squat down, and listen to the

_s o m e t h i n g i s w r o n g_

squeak. They cover their mouth with one hand; all of a sudden, their stomach is churning. When they stand up, the room spins a little, and they nearly trip over the table. They lean on the wall to steady themselves, and the vertigo and nausea pass almost as suddenly as they’d come.

_Okay, it’s done,_ Chara says, radiating confidence.

_What was that?_ Frisk wonders uneasily.

_What was what?_

_There was..._ They falter. They seem to feel just fine now. _I felt sick for a second,_ they conclude, feeling a little lame.

_I’m sure it was nothing. It was probably just, like... reality adjusting itself?_

_I don’t know... Is this really safe?_

_Frisk, come on! You like exploring, right? You’re about to explore beyond time and space now! How cool is that?_

_Pretty cool,_ Frisk admits.

_That’s the spirit!_ Chara encourages, then adds, _This is totally_ revenant _to your interests. C’mon, let’s boldly_ gho-st _where no kid has ever gone before!_

Frisk laughs, which calms their nerves. Knowing that Chara wants to have a good time with them helps a lot, too. They’re probably right; that weird queasiness probably was just the equivalent of car sickness or something.

They head back towards the gem-gazing room, but the mystery corridor doesn’t appear. Chara passes on that it might take a few tries before it’ll appear, so Frisk walks back and forth between the two rooms. On the sixth pass, it appears: the path seems to stretch out before them, or it’s like they’re moving in place while the ground keeps moving in front of them. When they stop and turn, a large gray door looms in front of them.

Frisk reaches out cautiously and taps the doorknob, snatching their hand away the instant they do as if checking if a stove is actually hot. Nothing untoward happens, so they tap it again at slower and slower intervals until they feel secure in opening the door.

Inside is a simple gray room, square and featureless save for a foyer. There’s a monster inside, tall, with a cracked, mask-like face. Chara confirms via Them that this is Gaster. He looks vaguely familiar, but Frisk can’t place how or why. They approach cautiously, but he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to them.

Frisk tilts their head at him, and when they enter the room proper, they take a good look around. It really is just a gray room, though. They look back at Gaster and wave a hand in front of him. That doesn’t seem to work, so they reach out and touch him. His black robes are sticky, yet smell like charcoal.

He flinches back, if the liquid, sinuous movement he makes can be called “flinching.” His mask cracks into a wide grin, and he starts to vanish, but his entire body goes staticky and he reappears further back in the room. The lights in his eyes are really familiar to Frisk. They look, it occurs to them, a little like Sans’s. His hands look kind of bony too, now that they think of it, even if there’s an odd hole in each of them.

_I wonder if he’s a skeleton?_ they think.

_He doesn’t look like one to me,_ says Chara. _Why?_

_Oh, it’s just..._

Something in the air has changed. The crescent grin is now a crescent grimace, and Gaster stares down at Frisk, quivering as if afraid. Frisk holds up both hands and takes a step back, hoping to calm him down, but the monster’s hands gesticulate wildly. He speaks in a voice that hurts their ears, and symbols begin to flash around him in a wave-like formation.

Star of David-flag-cross / waterdrop-down hand-flag-cross-frowny face-thumbs down / skull and crossbones-flag-snowflake / OK hand-left hand / down hand-left hand-sun-left hand... They barrage Frisk’s eyes, and Frisk feels a headache coming on.

_Wh-what’s going on? I don’t like this. Let’s get out of here, Chara._

_Wait. The third one says They can translate what he’s saying,_ Chara says. _Give Them a sec... Okay, uh... Apparently he’s upset. Like we couldn’t tell by looking._

Frisk takes another step back. The room is starting to swim around them, and they feel sick to their stomach.

Star of David-flag-cross / down hand-V hand-shadowed cross-left hand / OK hand-left hand-left hand-skull and crossbones / snowflake-sun-sprawled hand-thumbs up-neutral face-left hand-thumbs down. The symbols come faster and faster. Gaster’s face is a screaming mask, and Frisk finds their eyes following the cracks along it as he mouths incomprehensible words at them. Up and down and down and up... Their head throbs.

_He’s saying we’ve been tricked?_ Chara echoes, concerned and alarmed. _What? Tricked how? What are You laughing at?_

Frisk bumps into the wall. It’s cold and a little dusty. “Stop,” they whisper hoarsely. “Please, stop.”

But Gaster’s hand gestures only grow more agitated. Symbols sear through the air like monochrome fireworks, glittering and fading and glittering and fading: Star of David-flag-cross / bomb-cross-waterdrop-snowflake / up hand-flag.

_You... must... go,_ Chara translates, and they sound unsettled.

Dull pain cuts through Frisk’s body in an up-and-down pattern. They clutch their stomach. _Chara, I don’t feel good._

Star of David-flag-cross / bomb-cross-waterdrop-snowflake / up hand-flag.

_You must go,_ Chara repeats, and they sound afraid. _Frisk, what’s wrong?_

_Chara, it hurts,_ they whisper, tears squeezing out of the corners of their eyes.

Star of David-flag-cross / bomb-cross-waterdrop-snowflake / up hand-flag.

_We need to get out of here. Now,_ Chara says, and they sound panicked. _Frisk, go!_

_Chara, it_ hurts _!_

_It’ll stop hurting if you get out of here! Now GO!_

Frisk stumbles to one side and back towards the door, and the vision of Gaster fades into nothing. They pant, and it’s true, the pain recedes--but then the room itself cracks, one from above, one from below, and Frisk screams. It feels like they’re a puppet made of meat being played with by a violent, destructive child. They fall and the sensation feels like floating in oblivion, until they impact, which makes them feel like half of them is shattering apart. They’re not sure how they manage to make it back to their feet, save that Chara is with them and in them and guiding their limbs and helping them race through the gray door and

all of a sudden they’re back in Waterfall. The gray door is gone, but it hasn’t taken the pain with it. Frisk falls again. They can hear Chara’s voice from very far away, screaming something, but they can’t make out the words. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

When they land, it feels like their entire being unravels, and pitch blackness envelopes them. They heave and empty their insides. There’s a white noise now; it crawls up and through their ears. They can’t feel their ears. They can’t feel anything. Someone thinks briefly of golden flowers, but who? As the last of their consciousness fades, the world is swallowed up in a bright, bright red that sends them falling someplace undetermined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Frisk says, "You remind me a little of Campanella, I think, or maybe Scorpio," to Chara, they refer to the characters Campanella and Scorpio from _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ by Kenji Miyazawa, which was established in chapter 3 as being Frisk's favorite book.
> 
> "OH MY GOD YOU USELESS FISH-WOMAN" is a reference to the "useless lesbian" meme.
> 
> The symbols described when Gaster signs at Frisk and Chara actually say things. The translations are as follows:
> 
> Star of David-flag-cross / waterdrop-down hand-flag-cross-frowny face-thumbs down / skull and crossbones-flag-snowflake / OK hand-left hand / down hand-left hand-sun-left hand  
> "YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE"
> 
> Star of David-flag-cross / down hand-V hand-shadowed cross-left hand / OK hand-left hand-left hand-skull and crossbones / snowflake-sun-sprawled hand-thumbs up-neutral face-left hand-thumbs down  
> "YOU HAVE BEEN TRICKED"
> 
> Star of David-flag-cross / bomb-cross-waterdrop-snowflake / up hand-flag.  
> "YOU MUST GO." The rest of Gaster's signs are this phrase, repeated.
> 
> The repetition of "It hurts" is a reference to _Trilby's Notes_ , the third game in the _Chzo Mythos_ series by Yahtzee Croshaw.


	14. See? Isn't It Funny?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've selected BGM for this chapter! If you're interested, first, please open up [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qx6KpdolfEY) in a tab, then pause it. Then, when you reach the line "Chara freezes," hit play and let it repeat as necessary until the chapter's end.

Reality shudders, and so does Sans.

He sits at the bar at Grillby’s with a half-empty ketchup bottle in one hand, and trails off in the middle of telling a joke to Dogaressa. He’s always liked Snowdin’s _chill_ atmosphere, but the shiver that crawls down his spine leaves him feeling _cold_.

Something is wrong.

“What _is_ an updog?” Dogaressa re-prompts him.

“Huh? Oh, my bad,” he tells her. He slams the rest of his ketchup and leaves the bottle on the counter. “Something just came up, so let me get back to you on that. Grillby, put lunch on my tab.” He slides off his stool and heads for the door.

“Hey, Sansyyy!” the swirly-eyed bunny calls from her usual seat. “Wh-wh-where you going?! You only just got here!”

“Heh, sorry,” he tells her, winking as he grins. “I gotta whole lotta work I need to slack off on, and time waits for no skeleton.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He’s pretty sure he knows where the problem is, and he knows a shortcut there. He opens the door, waves over his shoulder to the other patrons of Grillby’s, and strolls out.

\---

Reality shudders, and so does Flowey.

“Where did that dumb kid _go_?” he mutters to himself, burrowing up and down the spot where he last saw them in Waterfall, right around the crystallized cheese table. Now it’s like they’ve vanished into thin air. He doesn’t like it. They’ve got something they still need to do for him. Don’t tell him they stopped playing! They can’t just up and leave him! Not after all that! It just isn’t like them! It just... it’s not like them.

Something is wrong.

“Ugggh! I’ve had enough of this!” he finally snaps to no one. “Whatever! I don’t need them! I don’t need _anybody_! If they’re gone, that just makes it easier on me!”

No one answers. Flowey looks around at their lack of audience, then sags, scowling. “ _Uuuggghhhh_. I hate this.”

He burrows back into the ground, following the mouse tunnels that lead to gaps in the earth. It’s so easy to travel this way, and he can pop up at a moment’s notice and disappear the same way. It’s the only way to travel, really, and he can just wait until the kid shows up again.

Yeah. They’ve got to show up here again sooner or later. The SAVE point is _right there_. Where else could they have gone?

\---

Sans arrives in Waterfall a moment later, in the room where he’d set up a telescope. As an actual telescope, it’s useless now, but as a gag item, it’s great. He really got the kid with that one way back. Wait, was it all that long ago? It sure feels like it was.

He looks around. There’s a monster hanging out, and when Sans hits them up with questions on whether they’ve noticed anything strange, they mention they’ve seen the kid, who passed through maybe fifteen minutes ago. Sans thanks them and heads back the way he came.

There’s no one in that direction, though, and when Sans questions monsters on the other side, they say they haven’t seen the kid. Sans rubs his skull and looks back in the direction of the telescope room. He’s got a bad feeling about this.

On the plus side, when he heads back again, he finds the kid no problem.

On the minus side, when he finds them, he finds them collapsed near a table, unmoving.

Sans can move pretty fast when he wants to, and he’s at their side in an instant. “Kid! Buddy! Pal! Stay with me!” he urges, picking them up carefully and rolling them right-side up. Their head lolls back, and he has to support it with one hand. He checks their pulse, and thank god, it’s still beating. He taps their cheek, and they make a little noise but don’t wake up.

“What the heck happened, kid?” he murmurs. Occam’s razor suggests they ran afoul of an ill-tempered monster, but Sans has a gut feeling that’s not right.

He looks up, back and forth. He could’ve _sworn_ that he felt something tear in the fabric of reality itself, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. He wasn’t sure what (if anything) he’d be able to do about it, but he figured he’d better take a look, if nothing else. He hadn’t expected to see the kid here per se, but he’s also not surprised to find them. Everything else looks normal. So did what happened happen to the human...?

“Not gonna find any answers lying around here, huh, kiddo?” he murmurs, winking an eye shut. “C’mon. Let’s get you somewhere safe so you can tell me what’s up. I know a... well, I guess there’s no point in telling you, huh?”

The human of course doesn’t respond. That’s fine, since Sans was talking for his own benefit anyway. He hefts the kid up--they’re awfully light; what’d they do with all the ‘dogs he sold them?--and once he’s got them on his back, turns and walks for home.

\---

Someone’s walking back and forth aboveground. Flowey’s had plenty of practice telling when he should and shouldn’t poke his head up; it’s why he can dive back down in an instant, anytime, anywhere. The footfalls don’t sound right for the kid, though. Whose are they? They sound familiar. He concentrates to better figure it--

“OW!”

Flowey’s stem bends nearly double when something impacts with the back of his head and rolls away. It rolls back a little when it reaches the dead-end side of the tunnel. He mutters several of the most vile curses he knows (“tea and sugar, butterscotch, cinnamon, snail pie, CHOCOLATE”) and rubs his petals, then glares over at the rock that fell down the mouse hole.

It’s not a rock. Flowey knows at a glance that it’s much, much more valuable than that. Its bright, shiny glow entrances him, and he approaches in a mix of wonder and disbelief.

\---

“Papyrus? Hey, Papyrus! I need to use your bed, okay?” Sans calls as he walks into his house. “Papyrus, you here?”

There’s no answer. Sans shrugs the kid up his back a little higher and wishes he’d taken a shortcut direct to his brother’s room as he carries them up the stairs. He _could_ take the kid into his own room, but heck, Papyrus’s door is closer and his bed is actually made. Besides, he knows his brother won’t mind. He’ll probably insist on whipping the kid up some get-well spaghetti once he finds out they collapsed, so it’s probably better for their health he _isn’t_ here right now.

He tucks the human in and takes a seat next to them. It occurs to him after he’s already sat down that they might need a drink of water or something to eat when they wake up, but... he’s already sat down. It also occurs to him that it might be a while before they wake up, so he should probably grab something to read, but... again, he’s already sat down. Fortunately, before he can debate with himself too much on whether the effort is worth it, they begin to stir.

“Hey, kiddo,” he greets them, keeping his smile relaxed and his hands in his hoodie pockets. “You sure gave me a--woah, hey, you okay?”

They’d blinked blearily a couple times as he spoke, and when they focused on him, they scrabbled upright in an open panic. He stares as they curl around, shivering, nearly pressing their head to the wall as they grip the side of Papyrus’s bed.

“Calm down, kid. It’s all right,” Sans soothes them, getting up without thinking to rest a hand on their shoulder. They flinch and tense, and he moves his hand away. “You’re safe here. Nothing’s gonna hurt you now.” He winks. “Papyrus would have a real _bone_ to pick with me otherwise.”

They don’t even react. They’re shuddering, and based on the little noises they’re making, Sans is pretty sure it’s because they’re crying. Fortunately, he has some paper napkins handy in a pocket, stuffed there from when he was at Grillby’s ten minutes ago. He pulls out the wad and leans over the kid to set it down next to their hand. They shiver for a few more seconds, then grab it and press it to their face.

“Who hurt you, kid?” he says softly, watching them. “ _What_ hurt you?”

They sob. Sans has a feeling he was right on the money. He eases himself down onto the edge of Papyrus’s bed, one leg draped off the side.

“You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t wanna, kiddo,” he reassures them. “But if or when you _do_ wanna talk about it, I’m right here. Okay?”

They sob harder. It hurts Sans to listen to it, not that he’s gonna tell the poor kid that, and he turns his gaze to his brother’s bookcase. It’s got all his favorites, from children’s books to complex manuals on puzzle construction. Sans wonders if maybe he should get Papyrus a few pasta-specific recipe books. He’d probably have to find them first, though.

The kid’s sobs die down, but their breathing is sharp and hard and fast. He glances back over at them. He’s never seem them so panicked or stressed out. Come to think, it’s kind of weird that they don’t have a scratch on their body. Of course, anything could happen to someone who got caught in some kind of dimensional anomaly, but they’re really tense. Actually, the way they’re holding their back and shoulders reminds him of...

“Oh, great,” he mutters. “You’re the other-kid, aren’t you?”

The other-kid freezes.

Sans sighs, trying to quell his irritation. “Look, I’m not gonna say anything bad,” he says flatly. “Can you put the kid on the line for me?”

Their breath hitches and speeds up, and they shake their head.

Sans’s irritation surges. A brand new bad feeling keeps it in check. “Why not?”

They shake their head again, harder this time.

Sans pauses. “You... _are_ the other-kid, right?”

A long pause. Then, very slowly, they nod once.

If nothing else, Sans appreciates their honesty. “So? Why not, then?”

They take several more heavy breaths, then squeak, “I can’t.”

His bad feeling intensifies. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with the kid?”

“They’re not here.”

The bad feeling is now a hunch, and when Sans flares his blue eye, he confirms the worst possible scenario.

The soulless human vessel before Sans screams, “They’re not _here_!!”

\---

Flowey didn’t really need to get this close, but these kinds of things have a certain allure for someone like him. The soft, warm glow lights up his features with a bloody hue. As he drinks in the sight of the bright red heart, a malevolent grin cuts his face in two. The SOUL rises in accordance to Flowey’s will, and his cackling fills the underground.

\---

The gray room is gone, but the world keeps falling apart around Chara.

The first thing they see when they wake up is Sans, and they completely panic, scrambling around so they don’t show him their face.

_Frisk. Frisk, where are you? Frisk, are you okay? Frisk, Sans is here, you need to come out,_ they beg, but there’s no response. _Frisk. Frisk. Frisk! FRISK!!_

But the more they yell, the more it sinks in that Frisk isn’t ignoring them. Frisk _isn’t there_. The resonance of their SOUL has vanished and left behind an empty void.

It happened in the gray room. There’s no question of it; the third one as much as said so. Chara doesn’t want to think about that, and unfortunately, they’ve got plenty to think about instead, like how Frisk was scared, and reluctant, and in pain. Yet like the idiot they are, Chara had kept insisting they try that stupid exploration. And now--now Frisk is gone.

They nearly yelp when Sans touches their shoulder, and thank god, he immediately pulls his hand away. But he’s saying nice words, soothing words, words that aren’t for a rotten ugly miserable worthless _thing_ like them. They begin to shake and cry, and they hate themselves for crying but they can’t stop, because they know this isn’t for them, this kindness and concern is not for them, it never has and never will be for them, and they don’t have the guts to even admit the truth, just like with the buttercup pie--

A few napkins drop down near their hand. Their stomach turns, but they grab them anyway. They don’t want Sans to know they’re crying, even though the only reason he’d give them this is if he already knows. And he keeps being _nice_ , he keeps being _supportive_ , and Chara can only cry harder because--who hurt them? What hurt them? _They_ hurt them. Frisk is gone, their SOUL is nowhere, and it’s all Chara’s fault. If only they hadn’t pushed Frisk into searching for Gaster. If only they’d listened to Frisk when they wanted to back out! Didn’t this exact same thing happen with Asriel? Asriel wanted to back out, but they _had_ to have their own way, they _had_ to be right, and now everything is ruined forever _again_.

It’s an intense effort, but after a couple of minutes, they start to rein their crying in. Now, though, they can’t stop hyperventilating, because the gravity of what they’ve done is crushing in on them. Frisk is gone. Frisk really is gone. Their SOUL has probably been shattered across time and space just like Gaster was. What are they going to do? What are they going to _do_? How can they possibly ever make up for this? They can’t. They can’t. They know they can’t, no more than they can make up for Asriel being trapped in a soulless flower body. They can’t even punish themselves with death because this is _Frisk’s_ body, this is the last thing they have of them, and if they destroy even that then what could they--

“Oh, great,” Sans mutters. “You’re the other-kid, aren’t you?”

Chara freezes.

_No,_ they quail. _Why? I don’t know what to do! Someone help me!!_

But nobody answers. Even the third one’s presence has gone.

“Look, I’m not gonna say anything bad,” he says, even though he sounds like he wants to. Chara knows that tone of voice well. “Can you put the kid on the line for me?”

_No no no no no no no,_ they beg, but they know no one will answer their pleas. They can only shake their head, not trusting themselves to speak aloud.

“Why not?”

_Stop! Stop asking me questions!! Go away!! Leave me alone!! You hate me, so stop talking to me!!_ Chara wants to scream. Instead, they shake their head harder.

“You... _are_ the other-kid, right?”

For a moment, Chara stops breathing. In that moment, a world stretches out before them: a world where they pretend to be Frisk, where Frisk’s friends become their friends, where they can keep Frisk alive in at least this one small way.

But no. They’d mess that up too. And the more they picture it, the less they can bear to take this from them, too.

And so, certain they’re signing their death warrant, they nod once.

“So? Why not, then?”

Chara starts to hyperventilate again. They press the napkins harder to their mouth and manage to squeak out, “I can’t.”

Sans’s voice turns wary. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with the kid?”

“They’re not here. They’re not _here_!!” they scream, and the dam has burst. “They’re _gone_ , their SOUL is gone, it’s gone forever!! And it’s all...” They dig their nails into their hair and drag down hard. The pain isn’t enough. They deserve much, much more pain than this. “It’s all because of me! It’s all... ahaha... ahahahaha!!”

Hysterical laughter bubbles out of them, hot and sour like vomit, like when they realized what their prank pie had nearly done to their adoptive dad. It’s a horrible sound and it grates against their own ears, but they can’t stop. They pound a fist on the mattress over and over, tears streaming down their face, but their lungs still convulse in the shape of a murderer’s smile.

“What the hell is your problem, other-kid? What did you _do_?” Sans demands.

They laugh harder. Their sides feel like they’re going to split. If only they could break out of this body and go somewhere where they could never hurt anybody again. “Do you want to kill me?! Ahahaha!! You should! But it won’t help you any!! It’s already too late!!”

They can’t see Sans’s expression, but they can feel their sins crawling on their back. “The kid trusted you. They liked you,” he states coldly. His words and the restrained anger they contain slide between Chara’s ribs. He really loves Frisk, doesn’t he? The knowledge makes them nearly gag on their laughter. “And you stabbed them in the back? _Why_? What good would that even do you?”

“Good? _Good_? Ahahahaha!! Since when was this ever about _good_?! You already know what a rotten, worthless thing I am, Sans!!”

He pauses, who knows or cares why at this point. “Why?” he repeats, quieter this time. “Why would you do that? What reason could possibly have possessed you?”

Chara had asked the same question of the third one. Screamed it, really. They and Frisk had just escaped from the gray room, but Frisk was still falling apart. In a body-wracking convulsion, they’d spat out their SOUL, and Chara had begged the third one to do something, to use Their reality-cracking powers to fix Their mistake.

Mistake? No, This Was On Purpose, They had said. It’s Really Interesting, Isn’t It?

This response--and what Gaster had meant about being tricked--had struck Chara like oncoming traffic. _WHY?_ they had screamed. _Why would You do that?! What reason could You possibly have?!_

“Aahahaha!! Why? Hahahah... ahah, aha-- To see what would happen, of course!! What other reason is there?!” Chara wails/crows, repeating the answer They’d told them. They punch the mattress harder, but it’s no good; they can’t possibly hurt themselves like this. They slam themselves against the wall, but the impact is small and pathetic, just like them. They scratch at the side of their face, as if they could dig out the dirty, rotten thing inside the cage of flesh.

“Stop that,” Sans says, and his voice is very close, but he doesn’t touch them. Chara hears fear in his voice. “Is this a joke to you?”

They giggle, raking their nails down one last time. “A joke? Ahahaha... Yeah! A joke! It’s all a really bad joke, isn’t it!?” They sink onto their haunches and let their arms drop to their sides. “You like bad jokes, right, Sans? Then you should love this one!” they burble. “You know why we couldn’t guarantee we won’t reset at the end of this timeline? It’s because we can’t actually leave the Underground! Asgore dies, and his SOUL is destroyed, and all the human SOULs are stolen! No matter what! There’s no way out! So at the end, there’s nothing we can do _but_ reset!”

Their grin is hurting their face. It’s hurt for a while now. _Good_. They tilt their face over to finally show it to him, and are rewarded with his stare of horror. “See? Isn’t it funny? Don’t you just have to laugh?? Your great tormentor is just as trapped as you are!! Ahahahaha! We’re all stuck in this hellhole together, Sans. _Forever_!!”

It’s got nothing at all to do with what happened to Frisk, of course. But just then, Chara wants someone else to be as utterly devastated as they are. Based on how Sans’s eyes blank out and his breathing picks up and his entire body quivers, it looks like they succeeded. Chara wheezes, then slowly sinks back down onto the mattress as their laughter cracks and drifts.

“Everything you or I have ever tried to do is pointless,” they gasp, hanging their head. Their hair veils their face, and they dig their nails into the sheets. “So if it’s pointless, why not destroy it all? Why not wreck this entire sad, empty world?! This horrible, meaningless world...” Their breath hitches. “...that...” Their laughter breaks apart. “...they wanted to save.”

They’re so good at wrecking everything, aren’t they?

“Frisk...” they squeak, squeezing their eyes shut. No matter how hard they do, they can’t shut them hard enough to keep the tears from leaking out. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry...” They sob. “Why did I push you? Why didn’t I listen?” They can’t tell if they’re laughing or crying anymore. “Why do I always have to ruin _everything I love_?”

When they breathe out, they start to emit a soft keening noise. The last of their strength drains from their body with it. No--they were never strong in the first place, were they? They could only fake it as long as they had someone use to use as a crutch. Asriel. Frisk. The third one. They never could do anything on their own. If Sans kills them now, it would be a mercy.

But after a long moment, Sans only gets up from his seat and shuffles out of the room.

Chara shuts their eyes. _Who even cares. Nothing matters anymore._

\---

Sans is used to disappointment. He’s grown numb to it. When you try and try and never succeed--when time itself is your enemy, a plaything of an anomaly that can wipe out any progress you make anytime it wants to--the only thing you can do is accept you won’t get what you really want and make do with what’s left.

He can’t make do with this.

His slippers scuff on the floor as he wobbles down the stairs. He makes it less than halfway before even that much effort is too much for him, and he slumps down right where he is.

“Wow,” he murmurs, staring into space. “Wow,” he repeats. “So... you’ve been resetting ‘cause you can’t go home, so you’ve got nothing else you can do _but_ reset to try to find the way, huh... Wow... That’s a hell of a joke, other-kid.” His smile grows while his eyelights shrink, and he hunches over to grab his sweaty skull. “So why don’t I feel like laughing...?”

He trembles. He’d intended to settle his nerves by grabbing a bite at Grillby’s, tell a few bad jokes, forget about what he just heard for a while, but it’s impossible. He can’t even muster the will to make it to the couch and turn the TV on. It’s too much. The kid’s died and left behind a husk of despair, he couldn’t keep his promise, and if the other-kid wasn’t lying--and sure, they could well be, but he feels deep in his bones that they’re not--the resets will _never_ end. He’ll never be able to escape. Just like the other-kid said... he’s trapped. They all are.

That alone is a direct hit to what remains of his shriveled-up motivation to do anything, ever. The only possible mercy is knowing that he’ll forget all this the next time a reset happens, and what the hell kind of mercy is that?

He curls up on himself and escapes into unconsciousness.


	15. That's Wonderful News!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks go to out to Hybrid for their hilarious [chapter 13](http://imgur.com/Vmv55KB) and [chapter 14](http://imgur.com/bF5jm5D) fanarts. I'd also like to bring back the [chapter 6 fanart](http://lazy-rabbit.tumblr.com/post/134403735229) made by Lazy Rabbit, since it took me a while to get around to linking it originally. You're both awesome. I mean it.

Flowey’s cackling fills the underground mouse tunnels, and he reaches his leaves out for the shining red SOUL.

But then he stops.

“Wait a second,” he says, frowning. “There’s something weird about this.”

He looks up, frown deepening, and pops his head up into the corridor. Whoever was walking around up here, they’re already gone. Darn; he hadn’t had the chance to figure out who it was. The human’s body is nowhere to be seen, either, but while that’s a problem, it’s not the _main_ problem. He burrows again to where the SOUL quietly, patiently awaits.

“This can’t be real,” he mutters, eyeing it. “SOULs don’t literally just fall on people’s heads. This is way too convenient.”

He wills the heart closer, and it obeys. Flowey _could_ absorb it, but... he gives it a once-over instead, thinking. This is the human’s SOUL. He’s certain of that; he’s seen it enough times. And if their SOUL has left their body, they must be dead, right? But if they’re dead, they should have gone back to their most recent SAVE. It, and he, shouldn’t be here like this.

It’s weird. It’s _new_. He’s thrilled and fascinated and unsettled all at once. If the human’s SOUL is here, where’s the rest of them? More importantly, how’s this going to mess up his plan? Even if he absorbs this SOUL and challenges Asgore for the other six, he’ll still be out the Boss Monster SOULs he aims to steal by tricking the human into gathering them together. Hmm... Maybe the better question is: how can he take advantage of the hand he’s been dealt instead?

“One thing’s for sure: I can’t just leave a jewel like _you_ lying around,” he declares. He grins again. “Heeheehee... Boy, this sure is different, huh? I can’t wait to see how this changes everything.” His smile fades. “...Really, though, pal. What the heck did you _do_ to yourself?”

A whisper tickles his calyx, and he rears back in surprise; he hadn’t actually expected an answer. When he strains his listening-buds (he doesn’t exactly have _ears_ ), though, he doesn’t hear anything else. He frowns again. Was he just imagining it?

_...Whatever,_ he decides. First things first, he needs to get this SOUL preserved. Human SOULs will persist after death, but not forever. Besides, he doesn’t want anyone accidentally absorbing this baby.

So then the next step is obvious: get a SOUL container. Asgore has an empty one, but Flowey can’t just waltz up to him and dangle a SOUL in front of his nose without a backup plan. There’s too big a risk that he might lose it, and if Asgore gets a seventh SOUL, he’ll _have_ to absorb them and break the barrier. That’ll ruin _everything_.

Granted Flowey also has to figure out where to _keep_ this SOUL once he has a container for it--he could probably lug it around with him, but that’d be a pain--but one thing at a time. This is still fresh, unexplored territory; he’ll have to figure it out as he goes.

Gosh, what a curveball! He hasn’t been this surprised since the human first arrived and he discovered he couldn’t load his SAVE file anymore. The human’s... He frowns, eyebrows knitting together. The SOUL floats obediently in front of him. He wonders what would happen if he shattered it. Would the human go back to their SAVE? Or would they die for real and leave control of the timeline to Flowey?

For some reason, he’s in no hurry to find out. There’s too many possibilities here to explore to just waste them with murder right off the bat, he tells himself. Yeah, that’s gotta be it. He’ll figure out the details in time. For now, he has to get someone to get a container for him.

Good thing he has just the chump in mind.

\---

“NGAAAHHH!! What’s taking so long?!” Undyne demands as pacing digs a trench in the snow. “The kid ought to’ve gotten to Alphys’s by now!”

“I’m sure they’re just taking the scenic route! The human loves to walk around and talk to monsters!” Papyrus suggests.

“Yeah but...”

Flowey watches the two idiots talk about stuff he frankly doesn’t care about from his hiding spot not too far away. Ugh, the Snowdin area is awful. His entire body gets stiff, and he can feel even less than usual. He can _deal_ with that, he’s used to it, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Actually, though, it’s not as bad than usual. The SOUL he’s been carrying under his roots is warm? It’s like a little portable heater. It’s nice. He doesn’t remember the other SOULs being like that. Weird. Maybe it’s because it’s fresh.

Undyne starts tromping in the direction of Flowey’s hiding spot. He’s sure he can’t be seen, but he withdraws under the eaves of the fir tree anyway to wait until she’s stalked past. Papyrus isn’t following her; actually, he’s waving her off, so she must be leaving, which is perfect for him. Just in case, Flowey waits a little longer until Papyrus is absolutely, definitely, completely alone.

“Howdy, friend!” he chirps, pasting on his friendliest-looking smile. “Boy, am I glad to see you!”

“Flowey! My good friend!” Papyrus declares, brightening. He approaches and crouches down to his knees in front of him. “I’m glad to see you, too!! It’s always a treat!”

“Golly! Thanks!” Flowey chirps, because carrots have to be dangled and all. He ticks his expression over to a sad one. “I’m real sorry... Today’s not for a happy reason. There’s a big emergency, and you’re the only one I can count on, Papyrus.”

“An emergency, eh?? You have come to the right place! There is nothing I, the great Papyrus, cannot handle!!” he boasts. Flowey resists the urge to smile for real. Good old Papyrus. So dependable; so gullible. “What is the matter, Flowey?”

He glances to one side. “You and Undyne were just talking about the human, right? When was the last time you saw them?”

“Hmmmmm...” He strokes his chin and thinks. “It must have been an hour ago now??? They haven’t been answering their phone. Undyne just left for Hotland to make sure they delivered her letter to Alphys.” A bead of sweat forms on his skull. “I-is everything all right?? Are they okay???”

Flowey puts on a sad pout. Papyrus had taken much longer than the rest to lose his interest, so he’s actually looking forward to his reaction to this bombshell. “Well...” He shifts in his patch of earth and lets the red heart float up between them. “...no,” he concludes.

It’s actually really great. Flowey has _never_ seen Papyrus look this horrified, this devastated--and not for lack of trying. The SOUL’s light casts shadows on his skull as his entire body shakes, and tears stream from his eye sockets as his entire body sags like a marionette with its strings cut. Flowey drinks in the sight.

“No!!!! HUMAN!!!!!!!!” Papyrus wails. “How could this happen???????”

Yeah, the volume’s one thing he wishes he could control. “Quiet, quiet!” he hisses, carefully patting the skeleton’s glove with one leaf. “You know how many monsters would want a human SOUL, right? You have to be quiet!”

Papyrus slaps a hand over his mouth, but his torrent of tears doesn’t stop. He shoots Flowey a helpless, beseeching look, like he’d been stabbed through the heart and only Flowey could possibly mend it. It’s _really_ great.

“But I know I can trust _you_ ,” he adds, keeping his tone gentle. “You’d never try to use the human’s SOUL for selfish purposes. I know _you’ll_ protect it from the other monsters.”

Papyrus nods vigorously, then reaches a shaking arm out for the SOUL. He doesn’t touch it so much as cup the air around it, but it actually seems attracted to him. Flowey frowns and grabs his wrist with a vine.

“Careful! You don’t want to absorb it by accident, do you?”

Papyrus snatches his hand away and shakes his head even more vigorously.

“Okay, good.” Papyrus is just about the only monster in the Underground who _wouldn’t_ snap up this opportunity. Flowey’s _so_ glad he’s been keeping him on a leash for a while now. “Now here’s what I need you to do,” he continues. “I managed to save the human’s SOUL, but I don’t have any way of preserving it! We’ll need a special container to keep it safe, but the only one who has those is Asgore. But if Asgore learns about the human’s SOUL, he’ll take it for himself! I need you to go to New Home and sneak out a SOUL container so we can keep the human’s SOUL safe!”

“A-a container?”

“Right! A special glass-like tube with a metal bottom and lid that’ll keep the SOUL from breaking! Human SOULs last a long while after death, but they _won’t last forever_ ,” Flowey continues, patience beginning to dwindle. He keeps it off his face. “It’s super important that you get one right away! So hurry! Get on the gondola to Hotland!”

“I-I-I...” Papyrus stammers, hands held indecisively in midair.

_Get a grip, Papyrus! Your grief’s getting on my nerves!_ Flowey doesn’t shout. Never mind that he was reveling in it only a couple moments ago; now it’s inconvenient.

But then Papyrus clenches both hands, and though his tears don’t stop, his expression fixes into one of (dare Flowey say it?) determination. “I have an idea!!!!” he declares. “Flowey! Please continue to keep the human’s SOUL safe! I will be right back!!!!”

“Wait, what?” he utters, but the bonehead’s already on his feet and dashing off. He growls and sneers at his back. “Ugggh, I don’t care about your stupid idea! Get on the gondola and go to Hotland!!” he seethes under his breath. Still, it’d take a lot longer for Flowey to burrow to New Home than it will to wait for Papyrus to bring back whatever it is, so he decides to give him five minutes before abandoning this route.

\---

Papyrus bursts through the front door of his house, almost literally, and shouts, “SANS!!! SANS!!! You need to--Sans?”

Their house isn’t very big; there’s the living/dining room, the kitchen, the two bedrooms, and the shower/laundry room whose door is under the stairs. Papyrus had figured that Sans would be in earshot so long as he was in the house, which he might not be. If he hadn’t been here, Papyrus would have beelined to Grillby’s. But as a matter of fact, Sans is here. He’s snoring, in fact, folded in half near the top of the stairwell, head on his knees and arms under. There is no possible way Papyrus would be able to get around him, so it’s good that what he rushed home for isn’t in his room.

“OH MY GOD SANS did you fall asleep on the _stairs_?!?!” Papyrus demands, more outraged than truly angry. He doesn’t have room in his heart for real anger right now. “Truly you have raised the pursuit of laziness to new heights!!!” He pauses, then adds, “That wasn’t a pun!! Don’t you dare laugh at it!!!”

Sans snores again.

“Well... I suppose you didn’t laugh, like I asked...” Papyrus muses, squinting. Something about that is disquieting to him, but before he can pin down why, he grabs his head. “What am I doing!!! I don’t have time for this!!!!!”

He dashes to the door under the stairs and flings it open. It leads into the shower/laundry room, which thanks to Papyrus’s efforts is as neat as the rest of the house (minus Sans’s room). He hangs a right into the laundry room proper, which also serves as a storage room, and reaches for a bundle on the back of the tallest shelf.

When they’d moved to Snowdin from Hotland, Sans had told him emphatically to get rid of a certain object, but Papyrus had been unable to bring himself to. Instead, he wrapped it up and hid it where he was certain Sans would never have to see it. He’d figured that admitting to his little white lie would be worth asking Sans how to make it work, but there’s no time for that. It should be simple enough to figure out, anyway; no worse than his beloved puzzles.

As for why he kept it, he wasn’t sure why then and he still isn’t sure why now. Something about the idea of throwing it away was just too sad to bear, but the sadness is disconnected, drifting independent of any source. Either way, he’s glad he listened to his heart.

\---

To his credit, Papyrus takes no time at all to go and come back. Flowey is not inclined to give anyone credit. He’s pasted a concerned smile back on, but inside he’s counting the seconds. He tries not to grind his teeth when he sees the idiot carrying some grubby little cloth bundle.

“Flowey!! I’m back!!” he declares unnecessarily, skidding to a halt. “Here!”

Flowey is spared the necessity of having to think of something non-insulting to say, because Papyrus rips the cloth off to reveal a SOUL container.

It’s not exactly the same as the ones Asgore has. It’s more like a jar than a tube, and the top looks like it twists on or cracks open, but the glittering circuits are the same. Almost _exactly_ the same, in fact. It’s even got the little plate near the bottom that reads ‘WDG’ and a series of numbers. Flowey gets the feeling like he’s looking at a prototype. He gawks at Papyrus.

“Where did you get that?!”

“Oh, I’ve been keeping it in the laundry room. I never needed it until now,” he says hurriedly, unscrewing the top and holding it open. “Will this be good enough??”

Flowey stares at him for a second, then pulls himself together. He wills the red SOUL into the jar, but for some reason, it doesn’t obey as readily as before. It’s like... it’s stickier, somehow? Flowey can get it to the lip of the jar, but at that point it starts really resisting, like a magnet being pushed against another magnet of the same type.

“Ugh, _c’mon_ , you have to go in,” he mutters, “or you’ll disappear.”

And weirdly, the resistance goes down. It’s still a bit of a struggle, but the SOUL sinks inside, and once it’s all the way in, Papyrus quickly screws the top back on and hits buttons. After several attempts, air shoots from the top and bottom, tingling with magic, and the now vacuum-sealed SOUL inside floats peacefully.

“Did it work?? Is that good enough??” Papyrus frets. “Is the human’s SOUL safe now??”

“Uh... It sure looks like it,” Flowey says. He know he shouldn’t let himself come off as uncertain in front of him, but the reality of the situation is starting to sink in. As far as he can tell from his experience with Asgore’s SOULs, it looks like this one is good and preserved, but... “Why the heck did you have something like this lying around in your laundry room?”

Papyrus wipes his face with the back of his glove. “It’s a memento.”

“...A memento of what?”

His expression screws up. “I don’t remember.”

Flowey decides at this point he doesn’t care. What he _does_ care about is how convenient this all is. A human SOUL, the seventh SOUL, literally drops down on his head, and the first person he goes to to help with getting it preserved has exactly what he needs right on hand. It’s unnatural. Things _never_ go this smoothly on a first run in new material.

He wonders how far he can push his luck today.

“You went to your place and came straight back, right?” he says. “You didn’t tell anyone about the SOUL, did you?”

“No, of course not!! Well, my brother was home, but he was asleep.”

“So--wait. You didn’t just get a SOUL container, you got it out without your brother knowing?”

“Er... yes?”

“Great job, Papyrus!” Flowey beams, and he means it one thousand percent. “I knew I could count on you!”

Usually this sets his ego ablaze, but he just looks despondent again. The reason why is obvious, given the way he holds up the SOUL pot, gazes into it mournfully, and then hugs it to his chest.

“I’m just glad the human’s SOUL is safe,” he says. When he looks up, his eyes are teary again. “Flowey, how did this happen?? Who could do this to such a cool and awesome person?”

“Hmmm... I don’t know,” Flowey admits, glancing to one side. “I found the SOUL in Waterfall, but the human’s body wasn’t with it.” He adopts a grave expression and meets Papyrus’s weepy gaze. “I think someone stole it.”

“Stole it?? But who would steal a body???”

“I know--it just sounds _too_ horrible for anyone to do, doesn’t it?” Flowey simpers. “But I heard footsteps right after I found the SOUL, and the human’s body couldn’t have just walked away on its own, could it?”

“Poor human,” Papyrus sniffles, holding the jar up again. “I’m so sorry... The great Papyrus will not be able to give you a proper burial...”

“Now hold up there just a second.” Flowey allows himself a new smile. “The human’s body might still be okay.”

“What?? But...”

“It’s a... thing with humans. Their SOULs are _so_ strong, sometimes they leave their body all on their own,” Flowey fragrantly lies. Like he knows what really happened. Still, there’s a chance the body itself really is intact. And if it is... “If we can find it, we should be able to put the SOUL right back in, and then the human will come back to life!”

It’s like someone stuck a lamp inside his skull and turned it on; his entire face glows with hope. It’s disgusting to behold. “Really???”

Flowey smiles sweetly. “Would I lie, Papyrus?”

“That’s _wonderful_ news!!” he cries, jumping to his feet. “Oh, human! You gave me such a sad! I truly thought I’d never be able to share a plate of spaghetti or solve another puzzle with you again!!” His legs pump up and down in place, as if he were getting ready to run somewhere but his brain hadn’t yet given his legs the signal to where. “Oh!! Undyne should be in Hotland now!!! We can go get her to help and--”

“NO!” Flowey shouts, more forcefully than he meant to. He reels it back, ticking his smile into a worried-looking one. “I mean, uh... Undyne’s captain of the Royal Guard. If she learns the human lost their SOUL, she’ll _have_ to take it to Asgore. It’s her duty, after all. And then the human will _never_ come back to life. You don’t want to lose your friend, do you?”

“No, of course not!! But...” He hesitates, deflating slightly. “I suppose that means Dr. Alphys is out too, then... What about Sans? He loves science-y stuff! He might be able to help!”

“No! You can’t tell _any_ monster about this. Especially not your brother!” he insists. “You know how lazy and irresponsible he is. What if he lets it slip to someone who decides they want the SOUL for themselves?”

“My brother may be lazy, but he has a good heart!! He wouldn’t let a friend down!” Papyrus insists, but Flowey catches a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

Fortunately, he knows _just_ how to clinch it. “Can you really take that risk? When your dear friend’s life is on the line? When their body could be in danger _right now_?”

Papyrus doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t need to be happy; he just needs to say, “All right, Flowey,” which is exactly what he does a moment later. He even adds, “You’re my friend and I trust you,” making it extra-hilarious. “But I need to leave him a note,” he concludes, ruining the whole thing. “I’m worried about him being all alone right now.”

“What? He can take care of himself,” Flowey says, arching an eyebrow.

“Sans fell asleep on the stairs. He’s unspeakably lazy, but he’s usually not _that_ lazy,” Papyrus replies, and he looks worried. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Don’t you want to make sure the _human’s_ okay?” he needles, mostly to be a jerk.

“Yes, of course!!! They are very important to me! But... my brother is also very important to me! Please understand, Flowey!”

_Oh my god, I don’t care about your stupid trashbag brother,_ Flowey wants to say, but he knows better than to do so. Instead, he molds his face into an approximation of sympathy. “Okay. He’s family, after all. But make it quick, all right? This is life and death, Papyrus! And remember: not a hint about the SOUL!”

Papyrus brightens and sets down the container. “I understand!!!” And just like that, he’s off like a shot. Again. Idiot.

Well, whatever. Flowey waits a long while just to make absolutely sure he’s gone. Then he draws closer to the container and smiles at the heart within. Like he’s going to put his little treasure back where it came from. Papyrus just needed motivation. Still, Flowey’s at least curious about what _happened_ to the body, even if he has no plans whatsoever for after they find it. That’s fine, though. He’s never been more pleased to have absolutely no idea what he’s doing. Basking in the warmth of the SOUL, which seeps even through the container, even gives him the illusion of being able to feel excitement again.

“It’s you and me now, friend,” he murmurs. “Heehee... Won’t this be fun?”

« _As... ri... el..._ »

Flowey jerks back and whips around. “Who’s there?!” he demands, but sees no one.

« _Asri... el..._ »

He looks around warily. He definitely heard his name from when he had a SOUL of his own, but there’s no one around except for...

Wait.

He swivels a stare back to the little red heart. As he watches it, it shines a bit brighter.

« _Can you hear me... Asriel...?_ »

Flowey’s eyes bulge in realization.

The SOUL is _talking to him_.


	16. That Makes Me Really Happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard there was a bit of talk about _SP_ during the chatroom chatter covering Jet Wolf's _UT_ liveblog last night, but I was (HAVE BEEN) sick and went to bed early so I missed it. I understand at least a few people will be coming in from there to read, though, so have a chapter early, my Jet fan buddies.
> 
> Also, more [fanart](http://imgur.com/WaSNkYB) from Hybrid! You may wanna wait 'til you're done the chapter to look at this one.

« _Asriel...!_ » the SOUL insists, and Flowey wheels his leaves back as he rears away from the container.

“WAUGH!!” he shrieks, boggling at it. His thoughts race: _It talked? Why is it talking?! SOULs aren’t supposed to talk!! They’re just supposed to do whatever I tell them to!_

« _Asriel, help... I... I can’t feel my body..._ »

Flowey’s shock ticks over into mild dismay. He glances to one side. Then he looks back at the SOUL. “...Chara?”

« _Asriel, you know I’m not Chara..._ »

“Hah. Yes. I do know that,” Flowey says flatly. “But I’m surprised you’ve still got enough of a sense of self for _you_ to know that.” He leans forward to peer at the floating heart. He didn’t think he could get even more fascinated. Learning he was wrong is incredibly giddying. After all this time, there’s so much content still to explore, and it’s all thanks to them! “I’ve never talked to a SOUL like this before. Golly! You’re just full of surprises, aren’tcha?”

« _Asriel, please... I can’t feel my body..._ »

“Well, friend, that’s because you don’t have a body anymore! Hard to feel what you don’t have, huh?” Flowey chirps, all artificial cheer. “And by the way, ix-nay on the Asriel-ay. We’ve got mixed company coming back soon, so it’s Flowey, got it? Flowey!”

« _Fl... ow... ey..._ »

“It’s only two syllables, pal; you don’t need to stretch it out.”

The SOUL makes an indistinct noise. Flowey wonders if he laid it on a little too thick, and the silence that follows is awkward even for him. Fortunately, before long, Papyrus comes back into view, dashing through the snow and around evergreens. He skids to a halt next to the two of them, arms flapping.

“Flowey!! I’m ready!” he declares, clenching his fists. “I’m sorry! I wanted to get a backpack to carry the human’s SOUL in! But! Sans was blocking! The way to my room! So I couldn’t get in!”

_So why didn’t you move him?_ Flowey grouses. He keeps smiling. “That’s okay, Papyrus! I’m sure you did your best! We can just... hide the jar in your scarf... cape... thingie!”

Papyrus beams at him, then picks up the SOUL jar. Something tender and sad shades his expression as he gazes at it.

« _Pa... py... rus?_ »

“Yes, Flowey?”

“I didn’t say anything,” says Flowey, raising an eyebrow. “You can hear it?”

“Hear what?” Papyrus wonders, squinting.

« _Papyrus... it’s me... can you hear me...?_ »

Papyrus double-takes at the SOUL. “Gadzooks!!!” he declares, and when his eyes google out too, Flowey is gratified. “Human, is that you?!?”

« _Yes... it’s me... Papyrus, help... I can’t feel my body..._ »

“Human...! You’re still here!” Papyrus sniffles and wipes away his tears, then grins confidently. “Fear not!!! My other good friend here has told me that your body may still be safe and sound! If we can find it! You can go back to it! And have a body again like a normal human! And then I shall cook you all the spaghetti you could ever eat!!!”

« _Thank you,_ » the SOUL whispers, and it sounds so grateful. Flowey frowns a little. It... they... no, _it_ even sounds still human. He doesn’t know what to think of that.

“Oh!!! I should introduce you!” Papyrus holds the jar in front of Flowey’s face. “Human! This is my other good friend, Flowey!! He found your SOUL and brought it to me so I could save it! Which I immediately did!! Nyeh heh heh!!”

“Uh... howdy!” Flowey chirps, grin forced. “Nice to meet you for the very first time, human!”

The SOUL bobs a couple of times. « _Nice to meet you too, Flowey._ »

_Sure is quick on the uptake,_ Flowey thinks. _Boy, I really am lucky today, aren’t I?_

“Now that we have been properly introduced! Let us begin our quest to restore the human to their body!” Papyrus declares, standing tall. “Worry not, human! The great Papyrus shall allow no harm to befall you!”

« _Hehe. Thanks, Papyrus,_ » it says affectionately. « _I’m feeling a little better now._ »

“I’m very glad to hear it! If you need anything at all, let me know right away! I’ll do whatever I can to make you comfortable!” he reassures it. He tugs a loop out of his scarf-cape, where he then nestles the SOUL jar. “There! How’s that??”

« _It’s good. I feel safe here._ »

“Now it’s your turn!” Papyrus kneels down and offers a hand to Flowey.

Flowey stares down at it, then back up at him. “What’s this for?”

“It must be difficult to have to burrow everywhere!” Papyrus replies cheerfully. “Come and ride on my strong biceps, Flowey! We’ll search for the human’s body together!”

_You don’t have biceps, numbskull,_ Flowey doesn’t crack, though this time less to keep up appearances and more because it’s actually a thoughtful suggestion. He beams at him. “Golly! You’re always so nice, Papyrus! I’ll take you up that!”

As the skeleton nyeh-heh-heh!s, Flowey uproots himself and crawls onto his hand. He directs him to “plant” him on his shoulder where the jar is, “so I can catch it if it comes loose,” he explains cheerfully as he spreads his roots to get a better grip.

“Great thinking, Flowey!! We can’t be too careful!”

“We sure can’t,” Flowey agrees. He grins at the jar and wraps vines out a little more to encircle it, bringing the edge of Papyrus’s scarf over the top to hide it from casual view. “It’d be just awful if something else happened to the poor human, huh?”

The SOUL bobs a little. « _Thanks, Flowey... That makes me really happy._ »

The smile blinks off Flowey’s face. “Huh?”

« _I’m glad we’re friends._ »

“I’m glad you’re friends too!!” Papyrus declares when Flowey just stares. “Now!! To Waterfall!!” He points dramatically in the distance, then takes off for the edge of town.

Flowey finds himself a little disoriented, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. It must, he decides, be the change in perspective.

\---

When Sans drearily emerges from the hollow haven of sleep, he finds his line of sight obscured by a patch of yellow. His first thought is that yellow, as a color, should be abolished from reality. He’s not exactly sure why he thinks that. He doesn’t really care.

His next thought is to go back to sleep. He cradles his skull in a gap between the stairwell bars to do exactly that, but the view allows him to notice several more patches of yellow sprinkled around the house. He glances down at them, then up at the one still stuck to the ridge between his eyes.

It had to have been Papyrus. He must’ve come by while Sans was asleep. It’s probably something his brother thinks is important. Knowing all that, it still takes Sans ten minutes to muster the energy to pick the sticky-note off his face and read it. Or maybe it’s twenty minutes. Or maybe it’s an hour. Or maybe it’s just a few seconds. Who knows.

DEAR SANS! it reads. I AM VERY CONCERNED THAT YOU HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP ON THE STAIRS BUT I HAVE SOMETHING URGENT THAT I MUST DO IMMEDIATELY!! PLEASE READ THE NOTES I HAVE LEFT AROUND THE HOUSE AND ACT ACCORDINGLY!!! LOVE, YOUR BROTHER, PAPYRUS

There’s a P.S. in the corner. Sans flips the sticky-note around.

P.S. I CAN’T TELL YOU WHAT THE URGENT THING IS SO DON’T ASK!!!!

P.P.S. IF YOU JUST DIDN’T FEEL LIKE GOING TO YOUR ROOM I’M GOING TO BE MAD!!!!!!

P.P.P.S. PLEASE READ THE OTHER NOTES, IT IS VERY imptnt

Papyrus almost never writes in lower-case or abbreviates words, so the fact that he did for that last one so he could scrunch it into the tiny space remaining means, ironically, it must actually be very important. Sans leans his head back on the space between the stair bars and lets the note drift from his fingers. There really are a lot of other notes around. A bunch on the end table, several on the couch, a few on the TV, a conga line’s worth on the bannister, one on the... huh, the bathroom door’s open. He lets his gaze drift down the bannister. One of the notes is in reach. He lets that fact process for a while, then slowly, arduously begins the task of lifting his arm to pick it up and read it.

STAND UP!! it says.

_You’re asking the impossible, bro,_ Sans thinks, but he doesn’t drop the note.

An eternity of fiddling with the note later, he heaves a hand onto the bannister and, millimeter by millimeter, pulls himself to his feet. His legs, his back, his entire existence groans. It’s such a tedious, useless effort, and already he can feel his knees wobbling to send him crashing back onto his butt and render the exercise pointless.

But Papyrus asked him to, and it’s important to his brother, so he guesses he may as well stick with it just a tiny bit longer.

Now that he’s on his feet, another one of the notes is in reach. He leans forward, which helps stabilize his position, and picks it up. It reads: TAKE A STEP!!

So he does.

The next note reads: TAKE ANOTHER STEP!!

It’s starting to get a little funny. Sans obeys the notes, and in doing so manages to descend the staircase one step at a time. Once he’s reached the ground floor, there’s one last note. It reads: YOU MADE IT TO THE BOTTOM!!!! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!!

“You nerd,” Sans mutters, eyes softening.

The closest note after that is on the end table. Sans drifts in that direction, because now that he’s made it this far, he’s vaguely interested in seeing what Papyrus thought was worth decking the house in so many sticky notes for when he had something urgent to do. How fast did he do all this?

This one reads: DON’T SIT ON THE COUCH!!!

The next end table note says: I MEAN IT!!!

The third says:  DON’T!!!!!!

The fourth says: IT’S A VERY LUMPY TRAP!!!

The fifth: IF YOU SIT DOWN...... YOU WON’T WANT TO GET UP AGAIN!!!!

The last: HEAD FOR THE BATHROOM INSTEAD!

Sans has to admit, he’s tempted to sit on the couch anyway to see what Papyrus wrote on the notes there. And the bathroom is just _so_ far away. But then he notices that the TV remote is under the TV, and if he wanted to put on something mindless, he’d have to walk all the way there and all the way back, and that’s even _more_ effort. Sure, staring at the wall blankly forever has its own appeal, inasmuch as anything can have any appeal anymore, but since nothing has any meaning anymore, one act is the same as another, so he may as well just do as the note says.

It gets hard to keep going by the time he reaches the door. The door’s note, however, encourages him: YOU MADE IT TO THE DOOR!!! KEEP GOING! YOU’RE DOING GREAT!!

“You total goober,” Sans mumbles, feeling a real smile coming on.

The bathroom is split up into two rooms, one of which where the washer and dryer are. Sans would have completely ignored the latter were it not for a note in the doorway that reads: I STARTED A LOAD OF LAUNDRY! IF YOU CAN MANAGE IT! PLEASE MOVE IT TO THE DRYER! YOU WILL FEEL BETTER WITH WARM, CLEAN CLOTHES ON!

_Doubt that, bro,_ he thinks, but he glances inside anyway. The washer’s dial is set at “finished.” There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been there. _Eh. It’ll keep._

There’s another note on the far end of the doorway. It reads: THEN! TAKE A SHOWER! YOU WILL FEEL BETTER WITH WARM, CLEAN BONES ON!

Sans laughs a little and leans there in the doorway for a while. It’d be a pain to put the wash into the dryer... but it’d be more efficient if he does it now rather than after a shower... even if it’d be easier if he just didn’t do it at all... or he could just sink to the floor here and never get up again... but there’s a lot more notes left. In the end, the fact that Sans is still mostly upright is what helps him decide to lean into the laundry room.

There’s enough clothes in there for a few days of clean outfits. It’s a pain, but Sans shoves them into the dryer and turns it on. Once he’s actually in the middle of the activity, it’s easier to complete, at least. An object in motion tends to stay in motion and all. There are notes there too, of course, encouraging him to keep going and praising him for actually putting the wash in the dryer. It’s embarrassing on one level, but on another, it makes him feel a little better. The entire world might be pointless bullshit, but at least his cool brother thinks he’s cool.

It gives him enough presence of mind to realize that he’d save himself some trouble if he takes off his clothes now and shoves them in the washer, though it still takes him a few minutes of pondering-slash-spacing-out to actually work up the will to bother. Even then, he doesn’t remember he needs to _start_ the washer until he’s left for the bathroom, and by then it’s too late. Oh well. Who cares.

The shower door is invitingly open. Papyrus’s fluffy blue bathrobe hangs from the towel bar next to it, as do a couple of clean, white towels. A spare set of house slippers rest on the floor beneath it. The robe is stuck with a note that reads: I COULDN’T FIND YOUR BATHROBE SO YOU CAN USE MINE IF YOU WANT TO!!

“That’s not gonna fit me, dork,” Sans murmurs, affection in his voice.

Once he’s in the shower, the hot water and steam feel good. There’s several notes inside near the dials, right at eye level. He lets the water course over his skull and in and around his bones first. Lathering soap on is more effort than he can handle right now after what he’s already done, especially when just standing here feels so relaxing. He could fall asleep right here with no regrets. Hell, maybe he’d even get to drown to death. Wouldn’t that be fun.

But it’d be a lot less fun for Papyrus to come home to a shower with its drain clogged with dust and ketchup, so he leaves that thought right where it is.

He doesn’t bother to keep track of how long he’s in there; the passage of time makes itself known when the dryer screams from the next room. He turns off the water and drips for a minute. The air itself seems easier to breathe now. Before, it was like every breath weighed him down. Now... well, it’s not _great_ , but he no longer feels like, any moment now, he’s going to melt into a puddle of calcium. He reaches out to grab the first of a layer-cake of notes Papyrus left at eye level.

The first: YOU TOOK A SHOWER!!! DO YOU FEEL BETTER??? I HOPE SO!!!

The second: I ALSO HOPE YOU WASHED THE SLIME OFF BUT I ACCEPT THAT, AS A BROTHER, YOU CAN’T HELP BUT CONSTANTLY EMIT SLIME????

The third: WHAT MATTERS IS THAT YOU ACCOMPLISHED SOMETHING TODAY! EVEN IF YOU MAY THINK IT WAS VERY SMALL, IT’S STILL SOMETHING!

The fourth: THE PATH TO GREATNESS STARTS WITH VERY SMALL STEPS! I SHOULD KNOW, BECAUSE I AM VERY GREAT BUT I AM ALSO STILL ON THE PATH TO GREATER... GREATNESS.

The fifth: SO DON’T FEEL BAD!!!! YOU TOO CAN BE GREATER THAN YOU ALREADY ARE! I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!

The sixth: AND NOW FOR THE MOST IMPORTANT MESSAGE OF ALL........

The seventh: DON’T FORGET: I LOVE YOU!!!!

It’s signed with a little blue heart.

“Aw, Papyrus,” Sans whispers, love in his own heart. Water trickles down his face. When he leaves the shower, he takes the last note with him.

He dries off with one of the towels and grabs an outfit from the dryer: a T-shirt with a pie on the front cut with a pi symbol (Sans chuckles a little; he’d forgotten he even had this shirt) and gray sweatpants. It’s easier to move around now, too. Papyrus was right; he did feel better after a shower and a change of clothes. Not that it’ll change the fact that he’s trapped forever in an interminable hell of repeating timelines and erased memories, and if he thinks too hard on that now he knows he’ll fold up on himself again, but having even something this tiny to hang onto make it all feel somewhat less overwhelming now.

He looks again at the blue heart note, reads it and re-reads it and re-re-re-reads it until he can fix that meager sense of functionality in place, and tucks it into his pocket.

So. The kid’s dead. The other-kid’s in their body, radiating gloom and despair, and holed up in Papyrus’s room. Sans doesn’t like them in the slightest, and the thought of going back upstairs and dealing with them again makes him want to take a trip to Grillby’s for the rest of time, but he can’t let them stay where they are forever. ...Well. Technically, given the constrained nature of “forever,” he probably could. But the timeline hasn’t reset _yet_ , now has i--

Wait a second.

His eyes flicker in realization.

\---

“Hey, other-kid.”

Chara drifts out of troubled, broken sleep to crack a bleary eye at Sans. Their face is otherwise buried in the mattress, and they don’t bother to move. Sans smiles like usual, but it’s strained, gritted. He doesn’t want to be here. What a coincidence; neither do they.

“Got some questions for you,” he continues. “You had enough time to calm down?”

They heave a deep, weary sigh and shut their eye again. What does he want? Why can’t he just go away? Maybe they should’ve snuck out, but... what’s the point, when there’s no place they can go to escape themselves.

“So is that a yes, or...?”

“Unless you’re here to kill me, I don’t care what you have to say,” Chara mumbles, curling away from him to face the wall.

“You’re that broken up about the kid, huh?”

Chara says nothing, but they get a little angrier. Why does he have to feel the need to state the painfully obvious?

“So, since you brought it up, let’s get theoretical. Let’s say I _do_ kill you. Then what?”

“Then I’m finally free from this curse called ‘existence.’”

“Is that really true?”

Chara laughs a little. It’s hollow, even to their ears. “God, I wish.”

“Right. Because even if you die, you can ‘load’ time back to a point when you were still alive and try again. That about right?”

“Nnh.”

“Why haven’t you done that already to get the kid’s SOUL back?”

_Because I’m scared,_ they think. They pull the chain of their locket taut and squeeze the pendant tight. _Because if I try, Frisk’s SOUL might not come back. And if it doesn’t come back... then I really have lost them forever._

“Why bother?” they reply dully. “It won’t help.”

“Does that mean the power to time travel is in their SOUL?”

It sort of is and sort of isn’t. Chara doesn’t feel like explaining, so they say nothing.

“Interesting. So, one last question for you, other-kid. If the kid’s SOUL is the key to your time travel tricks, and their SOUL is supposedly shattered now... why are we still here?”

It takes a few seconds for the implications to sink in. When they do, Chara’s eyes fly wide open. They shove themselves partially upright and peek at Sans from behind their hair, one hand hiding their face.

“Looks like you wanna know the answer too,” he suggests, left eye winked shut. “Look. Maybe we really are all trapped--but you didn’t make it this far without being determined. Are you really okay with letting it end like this?”

Chara curls their other hand around the sheets and lowers their gaze. “No,” they mutter. “But anytime I try to fix things, I just make them worse.”

“So you’re giving up?”

“I gave up a long time ago. Just like you,” they spit. “But it never gets to stick. I literally _killed myself_ , but I still came back to life.” They gesture at Frisk’s body. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t _ask_ to come back. But it happened anyway. What can I even do?”

Sans is silent. Chara knows they definitely said too much, but it’s hard to care about that now. Then, for some reason, they hear the crinkle of paper.

“First things first,” he replies. “Take a shower and put on a fresh change of clothes. You’ll feel better.”

“I really doubt that.”

“It won’t solve all your problems, but it’ll help clear your head. Trust me on this one, buddo.”

Chara doesn’t respond. It sounds stupid, but... they find they want to believe him. Maybe they _can_ fix this; maybe they _can_ find Frisk’s SOUL and bring it back where it belongs and apologize to them for being selfish. But...

“Welp, it’s up to you,” Sans continues conversationally. “I’ll be downstairs whenever you make up your mind.” He strolls to the door, but pauses just before leaving. “Oh, and for the record: whether you’re on board or not, I’m gonna search for the kid’s SOUL. So if you don’t wanna come with... do me a favor and at least don’t wander off, all right?”

And then he’s gone.

Chara clasps their locket again and traces their thumb over the engraved letters.

“Frisk...” they whisper. “Ree...”

They take a deep breath and a moment to psych themselves up. Then they swing their legs over the side of the bed and get up to head downstairs too.


	17. Is It Really That Important?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hybrid brings us more [on-point fanart](http://imgur.com/FK88be2) for this chapter. I kind of wanted to do something like this in the chapter itself, but there was no actual time or opportunity for it, so thank you for picking up the slack.

Sans is loitering next to the couch when Chara, who makes sure to cover their lower face with one hand and not look at him directly, reaches the bottom of the stairs. There’s a messy stack of post-it notes on the end table next to Sans’s quantum physics/joke book. They think briefly of the telescope ruined by red ink for a gag.

“The bathroom’s through that door,” Sans says, nodding at the underside of the staircase. “If you want, I can throw the clothes you’ve got on in the wash. Otherwise, I got a fresh outfit warming up in the dryer that you can borrow.”

Chara frowns. “The shirt says something insulting on it, doesn’t it. Or it’s got itching powder or something.”

“You really think I’d do something that immature? I’m insulted,” Sans says. His smile makes it impossible to tell if he’s joking or not. Chara suspects that’s the point. “Nah, it’s just a plain T-shirt, hoodie, and a pair of track shorts, all itch-free. You can check ’em if you want.”

It occurs to them for the first time that Sans isn’t wearing what he was earlier. They look down at his shirt, almost smile at the pi pie, and consider his shower-and-fresh-clothes advice.

“...Fine.” They shut and lock the bathroom door behind them. It sounds like the dryer’s running, and when they check it, it’s got exactly what Sans said. Actually, there’s a pile of clean-looking clothes on top of the dryer... They shut the door and let it keep running, then head back to the shower room.

There’s a fresh towel on the towel bar next to a blue bathrobe, and aside from some dampness on the tiles, everything seems clean... They strip and leave their--no, Frisk’s clothes on the floor and slide the shower door shut behind them. Everything seems okay so far. They take a deep breath, then turn the hot water knob. It rushes out and drenches them.

Ice cold water, that is.

Chara yelps a scream that starts at high-pitched and ends at decibels only audible to dogs. They couldn’t be more awake now if they’d chugged ten shots of espresso in a row. They slam the shower door open and holler, “SAAAAANS!!”

“Oh yeah,” Sans calls through the bathroom door. He sounds amused. “Just so you know, uh... between my shower and doing the laundry... I mighta used up all the hot water.”

“SANS, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!!”

“Gotta catch me first, nerd.”

Chara simultaneously wants to throttle him and to genuinely laugh, but either way their blood rushes and makes them feel alive again. It reminds them a bit of how they felt after Sans killed them after they accepted his “mercy,” though this is a far more benign prank. They get back in the shower and let their teeth chatter as they soap down in the brutal torrent.

After a few minutes, they hear through the door, “Uh... other-kid? You aren’t _actually_ still showering, are you?”

“Y-y-y-yup!” they shout back, grimly satisfied.

“Buddy, you’ve gotta be freezing.”

“Th-th-that’s y-your fault, i-isn’t i-it?”

“ _Seriously_? Are you seriously taking an ice-cold shower just to spite me?”

“A-about f-fifty percent of a-anything I do is m-m-motivated by spite!”

Sans laughs, but it’s got an astonished, disbelieving quality to it. Chara was kidding (mostly (it’d be way more than just fifty percent)), but they still hope he feels bad. They _really_ hope it by the time they get out and find they can’t feel their fingertips. They dry off, wrap themselves in the towel, and shoulder on the bathrobe. The dryer hasn’t beeped yet, and anyway, wearing Sans’s clothes doesn’t sit right with them. The robe is much too long for them, so they wrap it around and tie it tight, ball the ends of the sleeves around their hands, and let the skirt trail behind them as they walk out of the bathroom.

Sans is at the table and reading a post-it note. When they open the door, he tucks it away and looks up at them. “Hey, y-- _hgk_.”

For a split-second, his eyes go black as he makes a small, guttural sound. Chara stares at him from behind their hand, then down at themselves, and understanding immediately dawns.

It must be _galling_ to see the human who killed his brother in another timeline wearing his brother’s clothes.

Chara looks back up and meets Sans’s now-normal eyes. He keeps smiling, but it’s tense, forced; Chara saw that flash of vulnerability and he knows it. For a second, having stumbled across this power over Sans, Chara savors it by scrutinizing him with cold, sharp eyes. How best to cut, to make him _hurt_?

...And they see Sans see that, and they see his face grow stony even as he maintains his fake smile. It’s both alien and familiar, and they know exactly why. They’re so disgusting. They flick their gaze to the floor and lift their sleeve up higher to hide more of their face.

“Sorry,” they murmur. “You didn’t say not to wear the robe, so I assumed it was fine.”

Sans lets out a long breath. When he speaks, his tone is carefully casual: “Eh, no big. It’s just a bathrobe. I’ll go throw the kid’s clothes in the wash.”

Chara steps aside to let him pass. They think they see his pupils have blanked out again, but it was in their peripheral vision so they’re not sure. They retreat to the couch and hug their legs to their chest, folding the robe’s skirt over and under their knees.

\---

Sans can’t believe he’s actually legitimately starting a load of laundry. When was the last time he did that? He can’t even remember anymore. Boy, is Papyrus going to be shocked. He might even be able to fool him into thinking he’s all right. Amazing how seeing a soulless murderer in your brother’s clothes can motivate a skeleton.

He dumps the kid’s clothes in and reaches for the washer lid. Just in time, he notices something sticking out of the kid’s pants pockets, and he reaches down and pulls it out. Good thing; he hadn’t thought at all to check the pockets. Who knows what they’re keeping in here. He pulls them inside-out and dumps their contents on the floor (those crabapples will probably keep). The letter floats face-side up; it’s addressed to Alphys.

“Huh,” he mutters, peering down at it. He tosses the shorts back in, chases it with detergent, and starts the washer, then picks up the letter. He turns it over. It smells a little like swamp water, and it’s sealed tighter than Asgore’s SOUL collection. Instinct tells him it’s important, so he shoves it in his own pocket.

After that, he rings up Papyrus. Like usual, his brother connects by the second ring. When he hears his brother’s voice, so many emotions well up, and it takes him a second to choke them back down. God, he saw him only earlier today. How can he miss him this bad already?

“Brother!!! You’re up!!” Papyrus declares, sounding ecstatic. “How are you feeling??”

“Never _skel_ -etter, bro.”

“UGH. Why did I even ask!”

Sans chuckles a little. Normalcy. _That’s_ what he was missing. A sense that, even if things are mostly awful, there’s enough that’s good to keep on keeping on for. “You, uh, sure went wild with those sticky notes, Papyrus.”

“Well, yes!! I was worried about you! Why did you fall asleep on the stairs like that?”

“Sorry, bro. I just didn’t feel like going all the way to my room,” Sans lies, the words perfectly casual and dismissive thanks to years and years of practice.

“SANS!!!”

Sans laughs. “Hey, before you chew me out, listen to this.” He holds the phone out to the simultaneously running washing machine and dryer for a moment, then pulls it back. “Pretty neat, huh?”

“You... you started _another_ load of laundry?? Wowie!! I’m impressed, Sans! You haven’t done your own laundry since before we moved to Snowdin!”

_Ah_. That’d put it right around the time of... Yeah. No wonder he hadn’t remembered. He wouldn’t have wanted to. The realization doesn’t make him happy, but then, not much does. “What can I say? You inspired me, Papyrus.”

“Wowie... I’m so happy... You’re finally becoming slightly less of a slob!!!”

“Ehhhn, I wouldn’t count on that,” Sans admits, eyeing the mess on the floor. “So what’s this urgent thing you’re taking care of?”

“Sans!!! I told you I couldn’t tell you that!”

“Oh, right. My bad. Can you tell me where you went?”

There’s a pause. Sans hears Papyrus say from a small distance, “Can I--?” Another pause. Then, at his normal decibel level: “I’m sorry, I can’t!!”

“Oh, okay. So, uh... who’re you with?”

This gets a prompt answer: “A friend!”

Huh. Sans considers this for a couple of seconds. “Can I talk to them?”

Another pause, briefer than before. “I’m sorry, but no!”

Hrrm. It can’t be Undyne. It can’t be the kid. Who else is his brother friends with...? “So, this urgent thing you can’t talk about,” he says, staring up at the shelves across from the washer and dryer. “Is it really that important?”

“Yes!! It is extremely important! I can’t tell you why it’s important... but it is!!! Once I’m done, I’ll be able to tell you, and you’ll understand then!”

“Well... okay,” Sans concedes. “I’m sure you got it handled, then.”

“I do indeed!! And you! Make sure you eat something, all right? I didn’t have time to heat up some spaghetti, but there’s plenty in the fridge! And make sure you do your job tonight!”

“Hey, I always do my job.”

“DO IT WELL!!!”

“Sure thing, bro. Anyway, I’ll let ya go. Good luck with what you’re doing.”

“Yes! Thank you? I will, as always, do my best!!”

“Oh, and, uh, Papyrus?”

“Yes?”

Sans scratches his cheekbone. “Thanks for, uh... the last note in the shower.” He winks, despite knowing Papyrus can’t see it. “Right back atcha, bro.”

“Aww... Anytime, Sans!!”

They both hang up, and Sans leans back on the washer/dryer to shut his eyes. The vibrations feel kind of nice on his backbone. He tucks his phone in his pocket and traces his thumb on the edge of the note there. Thanks to it, he’s cobbled and patched together enough motivation to drag the other-kid out of their own funk, and maybe, between the two of them, they might be able to save the kid, but... woo boy, is he the wrong skeleton for the job.

He has a bad feeling about whatever it is Papyrus is up to, but he tries not to. Unlike his fundamentally sincere brother, when Sans has things he has to do that he can’t tell anyone about, he mentions them to no one. People can’t ask prying questions if they don’t know there’s anything to ask questions about--but that’s because his problems are literally unending. If Papyrus can talk about it after it’s done, that means he’s got an end goal in sight, so there’s probably nothing to really worry about.

“Papyrus can take care of himself,” he reminds himself. “Papyrus takes way better care of himself than you do.”

And anyway, he’s got enough problems here in this house without buying more.

\---

“What’d I tell you, friend?” Flowey chirps. “I knew your brother was just fine!”

Papyrus beams at the flower riding on his shoulder. “Yes!! I’m relieved!” He squints. “Although I wish he were less thoughtless. Honestly, sleeping on the stairs! What if he fell down??” The idea makes him shudder a little. Papyrus doesn’t want to even think about if Sans fell down.

« _Sans is okay?_ » says the human.

Papyrus pats the jar looped in his scarf. He’s so grateful that Flowey is helping him keep it in place. Between the two of them, they can definitely protect the human! “Yes!! He was just being a lazybones like usual. But now we can focus on getting your body back! You’ll be back to normal in no time!”

They shine a little brighter; he can just see their light through the folds of his scarf. « _Thanks. I’m so glad you’re here, Papyrus._ »

Papyrus basks in the affection of his cool friend, and an extra spring enters his step as he hurries to the place Flowey had described to him. Although the human’s body was gone, Flowey had pointed out that they might be able to find clues about who took it if they go back and investigate. This sort of thing isn’t up Papyrus’s alley, but he trusts his friend’s judgment. Besides, who knows! Perhaps whoever took the body felt bad for their crime and brought it back to where they found it! It’s always worth checking.

Papyrus knows Waterfall well, thanks to all his visits to Undyne’s place, so it doesn’t take him long at all. Unfortunately, once they get to the table with the crystallized cheese, there is indeed no sign of the human’s body, and the echo flower just plays back a mouse’s squeak.

« _I remember this place,_ » the human says suddenly, though. « _I was here..._ »

“Golly, of course you were here!” Flowey declares. “Where else would you’ve been?”

« _There was a door..._ »

“Well, there’s no door now, friend! Maybe you mean down the hall some?”

« _No, it was here..._ »

“It must have been such a horrible experience!!” Papyrus says as he inspects the ground. He sees a whole lot of dirt. “You’re imagining doors where there aren’t any!”

« _No, there was a door! Please believe me..._ »

“Hmm... Well, you’re such a nice human, I don’t think you’d lie,” Flowey says thoughtfully. “Tell you what! Why don’t we look around for this door while you tell us more about it? Maybe we can figure out where your body went!”

« _Okay..._ »

“I’m on it!!” Papyrus declares, dashing towards the gem-gazing room.

« _The door was gray. You already passed it, Papyrus._ »

Papyrus screeches to a halt. “Oh. Really??” He retraces his steps, but there’s only so many he can take before he reaches the table again.

« _The door... isn’t normally there... You have to do something special to find it..._ »

“Hmmm... And what’s that?” Flowey wonders.

« _I’m... I’m not sure... I wasn’t the one who did it..._ »

“Golly! Then who did?”

Papyrus scratches his skull and peers around the brief hall from one room to the other. There’s definitely no door here. “Oh!!!” he utters all of a sudden. “You’re talking about a puzzle, aren’t you human?!”

« _Sort of. I don’t understand it myself..._ »

“It must be a truly fiendish puzzle to bamboozle a puzzle-lover such as yourself!” Papyrus rubs his jawbone, peering at the walls. “Perhaps there’s some sort of hidden switch??”

He starts feeling his way along the walls. It’s exciting! To think there’s a puzzle hidden here, and he never knew all this time! Maybe the human’s body is even still there? Perhaps the ferocity of this puzzle was what made their SOUL split from their body?! Wowie! It must be a dangerous puzzle! He... he’d better not get too worked up. It must be painful for the human to be here after an experience like that. He glances down at them in concern, but keeps searching.

“So what was behind this door, huh?” Flowey prompts as Papyrus works.

« _There was... a man... in black... He was a monster..._ »

“Uh huh?”

« _I couldn’t understand him... He talked... he talked in hands..._ »

Papyrus’s hands still. Why? All of a sudden, he feels like... like there’s something he’s forgotten... something important... He tries to focus on the thought, or maybe it’s a memory, but it slips away from his grasp like a soap bubble. What was it...?

Well, it can’t be _that_ important if he can’t even think of it!! The most important thing right now is the human, anyway. He stretches up to touch the ceiling. Sometimes puzzles can be hidden in plain sight, right where people usually don’t think to look!

« _I was searching for him! I remember now... I just wanted to explore a little before I went to see Alphys again. I thought... I thought what I’d find would help. I had a good reason to think that... What was it...?_ »

“Oh,” says Flowey. “So you were trying to be better friends with Alphys, huh?”

« _Yes! Just like you tol--_ »

“So what happened with this man?”

Distracted as he may be with feeling for a switch, Papyrus almost scolds Flowey for interrupting the human--it’s impolite! But then they start to talk and he doesn’t want to interrupt them too, so he keeps on with his task.

« _...I touched him... I wasn’t trying to do anything... If I scared him, I didn’t mean to... I was just trying to get his attention... and he got upset..._ »

“Pssh. People and their personal bubbles, am I right?”

« _I think... I think he did something to me... I think he might have done this to me..._ »

“What!!!” Papyrus exclaims, aghast, as he drops his hands from the ceiling. “So someone _did_ hurt you, human?!”

« _It’s hard to remember... It hurt so much... and now I’m just a SOUL. It’s a little hard to even think when I’m like this... Everything just kind of... slips away into a fog..._ »

“Good thing you got a lot chattier, or we’d really be in trouble, huh?” says Flowey.

Something about this statement strikes Papyrus as odd. He’s not sure why, though, since it’s a true statement! The human never was a very talkative person!

“Do you think if we found this door, your body might still be there??” he suggests.

« _No, I don’t think so. We left the room. I remember that part. It was a very close thing... and after that... it felt like my body was tearing apart... After that, it’s all foggy... I know I felt you, Flowey... I tried to call out, but I couldn’t think clearly until I got in this jar..._ »

“Wait. Back up. So the man in black left with you?” Flowey says, raising an eyebrow.

« _Huh?_ »

“You said ‘we’ left the room. Did _he_ maybe take your body?”

« _I... I-I don’t know... Maybe..._ »

“So if we find this scurrilous scalliwag, we can restore you to your tiny human glory??” Papyrus says.

« _I don’t know..._ »

“Well, _somebody_ did _something_ to your body! I heard footsteps up here right after I found your SOUL!” Flowey declares. “Why were you trying to find this guy, anyway? Who is he? Who told you to do that?”

Something cold prickles at Papyrus’s back. This also strikes him as odd, because normally the cold doesn’t bother him at all. He looks over his other shoulder.

« _N-nobody told me! I decided all on my own!_ »

“Gosh, friend. You sound _awfully_ defensive,” Flowey observes, sounding sad. “You aren’t _hiding_ anything from us, are you?”

“Flowey? Human?” Papyrus says, voice a little strangled.

“Not now, Papyrus,” he asides in a mutter. “Because if you _are_ , friend, well, that makes it awful hard to help you!”

“Flowey, human, please...”

“Just a minute, Papyrus! So, c’mon, human. Why don’t you, help us, help _you_?”

« _I-I..._ »

“Please, I really think you two should see this,” Papyrus insists, sweating, as he turns himself fully around.

« _What’s wrong, Papy--_ »

Flowey sighs, sounding unusually irritated, and looks up. “ _What_?”

They stare together down a long, dark corridor. The gem-gazing room has vanished behind a curtain of shadows at the other end. Papyrus can’t be completely sure, but he feels like there’s someone there. There’s a patch of darkness that’s yet darker than all the other darkness. It’s more than darkness, even. It’s like someone cut a vaguely monsteroid hole out of reality. Papyrus is an extremely brave and handsome and _brave_ skeleton (the bravest!!), but something about it makes him very, very, very... put-off.

As they watch, the patch of ultra-darkness lifts a hand-like nub and waves. Before it, a gray door clicks into reality and creaks open.

\---

Chara hasn’t moved from their seat on the couch when Sans returns. They watch him from over the slopes of their knees as he saunters over and sits down next to them. Despite it being a two-person couch, he leaves plenty of space between them, making them wonder why he bothered sitting on the couch with them at all. Maybe he just wants to convey that they’re not going to stop him from sitting where he wants. He has a couple of crabapples on hand, and he tosses them one and takes a big bite out of the other. They scramble to catch it and nearly fumble the fruit, but they manage to keep hold and use their arms to block their face.

“So,” he says in between chews. “You feeling any better?”

They stare down at the crabapple. “No. But my mind is clearer, like you said.”

“That’s something. It’ll take a while before everything’s washed and dry, so we’ve got time to figure out a game plan.” He pauses to swallow. “By the way, I’ve been wondering... There some kinda reason you won’t look at me directly?”

Chara wonders if he’s testing them. Surely he hasn’t forgotten. They shift away from him a little more, just in case; they already know they’ve slipped up before now. “You told us never to let you see my face again.”

Sans stares at them for a moment. “Ah,” he utters. Another long pause. “Well, I gotta say, I appreciate it. But don’t worry about it, other-kid,” he says casually, waving his half-eaten crabapple like it means nothing. “We all say things we don’t mean when we’re mad.”

Chara peeks over at him, surprised. Is _this_ the test? They’re confused. To test him back, they slowly lift their face and stare Sans down. He holds their gaze, but... he seems less tense than before. Than even ten minutes ago. What changed? They’re even more confused now.

He polishes off his fruit in a few more bites; monster food is always quick to devour. He gestures at them to eat, and while Chara doesn’t really feel like it, they take a small bite. Sans nods them on until they’ve bitten it down to nothing. Weirdly, eating helps calm them down a little. Everything seems less overwhelming, anyway.

“So with that out of the way, let’s get down to brass tacks,” he says, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. “I’m gonna be blunt, so answer me honestly: is it really true there’s no way at all you can stop resetting?”

“...We all say things we don’t mean when we’re mad, right?”

“That’s cute, but I asked for an honest answer.”

Chara leans back and pulls their legs with them. They’re still a little numb. “We were trying to figure out a way to not have to,” they reply. “The one you call ‘kid’ likes you a lot. Well--they like everyone a lot. We’d gotten a clue and were trying to follow up on it, and...” They laugh humorlessly. “Well. You can see the results.”

“What was the clue?”

“It’s nothing you’d be able to make use of. We got some advice from the person who’d had the reset power before us.”

Sans eyes them. “Really? They were willing to help you out?”

Chara inspects their fingernails. They’re nice and soft after that shower, cold as it was. They start picking at the edges of one of them. “The ‘kid’ is pretty persuasive when they want to be.”

“Somehow, I get the feeling like you’re leaving out some crucial details.”

Part of the nail tears away. They pull at the rest, but it only comes half-off. They start picking at the other side. “So who’s ‘we,’ Sans?”

“Sorry?”

“You told me last timeline, ‘ _our_ reports showed a massive anomaly in time-space.’” They let a little venom into their voice: “Who’s ‘ _we_ ,’ Sans?”

Sans’s smile dims as his eyes narrow slightly. But it shuts him up, and that’s what counts.

“The short version is, I don’t know for sure if we could’ve. But we were looking at a good chance of it,” Chara continues, tilting their hand around. “They really wanted to make this the last time.”

“...Ah. I see.” Sans pauses. “So what were you two doing when someone tore time-space a new one?”

Chara flinches and stares at him. “Wait, you could tell that happened?”

Sans winks his right eye shut and stares back at them with a blank socket. It’s not hard for them to imagine an electric blue eye there instead. “What were you two doing?” he repeats.

They puff out a breath. “...Exploring.”

“Exploring across the other side of the fabric of reality.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

Chara flicks their gaze down at the gap between them. “We were looking for someone we thought could help us make this the last timeline. We found him, but he...”

They pause. He didn’t precisely _attack_ them. They’re not even sure if what happened was actually his fault. He must have had something to do with it, or else there wouldn’t have been any point in the third one coaxing Frisk to him, but given his reaction... he might have been used just liked they’d been. They rip off another fingernail, and it tears too close to the nail bed. They’re grimly satisfied when they start to bleed. It’s the little things in life.

“Well, he probably had something to do with us splitting up,” they conclude.

Sans grimaces at their handiwork, but only says, “He must’ve been pretty darn strong to just yank the kid’s SOUL out of their own body like that.”

They toy with the next nail. It’s a little stubborn. 

“And, uh... He tore open reality for you two to come through? You didn’t think--”

“No, no, we did that.”

“ _You_ did th--holy hell,” Sans utters, rearing away. “Holy _hell_. That’s legitimately terrifying, other-kid.”

Chara giggles. They know it’s not a compliment, but it’s hard not to take it as one. They decide not to mention that they can’t actually use that power themselves and the one who can is neither here nor welcome. Better Sans think they’re stronger than they actually are, as insurance. “Maybe Gaster thought so, too. He was real upset when we came to see him.”

“Gas...ter?”

“Yeah. Dr. W.D. Gaster. That’s who we went exploring for. He shattered himself across time and space, so that’s why we had to...” Chara pauses, then looks over at Sans.

His smile is fixed in place, and beads of sweat trickle down his skull as he gawks at them in open, fascinated shock. “You met _Gaster_?” he breathes.

Chara stares back. “You _know_ Gaster?” they growl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "They get back in the shower and let their teeth chatter as they soap down in the brutal torrent." Brutal Torrent is the name of a water-based attack in the _Tales of_ series, specifically _Tales of the Abyss_.


	18. You Could Erase Me

“You met _Gaster_?”

Sans should’ve seen it coming, but somehow, he hadn’t. Maybe it’s because he tries so hard to not think about Gaster anymore. He’ll never see him or any of the others again, after all. Better to focus on who’s left.

And it’s not like anyone _else_ remembers Gaster. Even knowing that reality itself got torn apart, even knowing that the kid and their pal have some seriously scary powers, he never actually thought they’d _meet_ him.

He never thought he’d ever hear anyone else say his name again.

“You _know_ Gaster?” the other-kid growls. They get up on one knee. “Come to think, you know a lot about the timelines--you studied quantum physics, didn’t you? And he was a scientist. A brilliant one. And--” Something in their eyes flickers. “They said they thought he looked like a skeleton,” they conclude slowly. They prop themselves up, put one hand on the back of the couch, and _loom_ over him. Sans is privately impressed at the same time that he gives them an unimpressed stare. “How do you know Gaster, Sans?”

“I don’t have a way to walk up to him and ask how we can get the kid’s SOUL back, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Sans replies flatly. “That’s _your_ superpower, other-kid.”

They make a low _tch_ noise and settle back on one knee. “If I _could_ pull him out into the open and make him talk, I’d do that.”

“So why’d you think he could help you end the resets?” Sans prompts.

“Because he’s connected to Alphys somehow. And you, too, apparently.”

Sans doesn’t rise to the bait. “That reminds me,” he says, pulling out the letter in his pocket. “I found this in the kid’s pants. What d’you need Alphys for, anyway?”

Jackpot. This is the derail he’s looking for. The other-kid lights up. “That’s right, the letter!! She’s the key to a better ending!” They snatch it from him, and he lets them. “She wouldn’t answer the door before, but as long as I’ve got...” Their expression clouds. “This...” Their hands sink to their lap and they fall silent.

“Uh. How was she supposed to get you a better ending, again?” Sans prompts.

“We were supposed to become better friends with her so she’d help us figure out how to keep Asgore alive,” they mumble. “But there’s no ‘we’ anymore. This is just another dead end.”

“What, uh, exactly happened to the SOUL? You said you didn’t see it shatter.”

“We managed to get out of the gray room, away from Gaster,” and they shoot him another look, presumably to send the message that they haven’t let him off the hook just yet (damn), “but they were in real bad shape. They collapsed, and... I think they spat out their SOUL... and around then we both passed out.” They shake their head slowly. “I don’t remember anything else.”

“I found you next to a table, right near where I pranked the kid with the telescope,” Sans replies. “That sound about right?”

They nod.

“I talked to some of the monsters in the area. Only one of ‘em saw the kid pass by. I passed that spot a couple times, too, and there definitely wasn’t anyone else there,” Sans muses, thinking back. “I’m pretty certain I was the first one to find you, but I didn’t see any human SOULs lying around.”

They stare down at the letter. It crinkles in their grasp. “So... they really are gone.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that!” Sans points out. “But it might’ve fallen between the cracks in reality. If Gaster was there, I don’t think he’d have ignored it.” This is it. If he can just bring this home smoothly... “How about this, other-kid? Let’s head back to that spot, and you do, uh, whatever you did before. I’ll try talking Gaster into... Why are you shaking your head.”

“It won’t work,” they whisper. “I can’t... Not without Them.”

Sans stares. He’s used to disappointment, but... god, he’d let himself start to hope on that one. Why does he keep doing this to himself? It always hurts worse afterwards.

“Oh. Okay,” he replies, keeping his tone casual, non-committal. “So then... uh...” He falls silent. He’s all out of ideas. He’s got a nasty feeling the other-kid is, too.

“It sure didn’t take long to exhaust all our options, huh?” they say, confirming it. They smile, but it’s about as real as his is.

“The laundry isn’t done yet, kid. Other-kid.” Sans rubs his temple. “Boy, ‘other-kid’ sure is a mouthful. You got a name I can call you?”

They open their mouth, shut it. “That’s the first time anyone’s tried to ask either of us our name.”

“What, really?” Sans stops to think about it. Now that they mention it, he has no idea what the kid’s name actually is... He’s always just called them kid or buddy or whatever. “Well, for the record, what’s their name?”

“...Frisk.”

“Frisk, huh. S’a nice name. And yours?”

“...Chara.”

“Chara?” Hrm. It sounds familiar. Where has he heard it before...? “Can’t say I _chara_ -lot for that one.”

They snort, and a smirk flashes across their face like a shooting star. “That’s your opinion. Personally, I think it’s _sans_ -sational.”

Sans laughs, half out of actual amusement, half out of sheer surprise. “Seriously?”

“No, I don’t actually like my name much.”

“You could always change it.”

They half-smile. “I would, but I always seem to end up with someone else’s.”

Sans laughs again, shaking his head. “Maybe you need a better _meta_ -vational system.” He winks. “You know, like the stick and the _chara_ t.”

They crack up and counter, “That’s non _sans_.”

“Heh. I gotta say, I never had you pegged as the type to _char-a_ t all about jokes.”

“Who says I don’t have a _sans_ of humor?” They grin, and there’s a sparkle of life in their eyes that Sans hasn’t seen before. “I actually love this kind of thing.”

As great as the joke swap has been so far, and as much as he knows it’ll kill the mood, Sans can’t leave that one alone. “More than the murder thing, or less?”

The grin and all it implies wipes from their face. “That’s another thing entirely.”

Sans watches them for several gray seconds. It’s like they’ve got two entirely different modes. The spark is gone, too, and he realizes he feels bad about that. He leans back and winks again. “Well... at least you know how to _slay_ your audience.”

They snort, and a hint of a smile peeks back in. “Your jokes are pretty _boss_ , too.”

_Damn. They’re good,_ he thinks, and despite everything, he finds his opinion of the other-kid has improved.

They take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “...Sans?”

“Yeah?”

“You remember the story I started to tell you back at the restaurant?”

His eyes widen slightly. That’s right; they’d started to tell him about the truth behind the anomaly, at least on their end. They’d opened up with all that talk about buttercup pies and herb quiches as a lead-in, but put a to-be-continued tag at the end. Then they’d had that argument, and he’d completely forgotten about it until now. “You going to tell me the rest?”

They nod once.

If he knows the trick behind how their powers work, then combined with his own quantum physics expertise, maybe they can figure out to reach Frisk’s SOUL. Chara must be thinking the same thing. It might amount to nothing (Sans is already steeling himself for that possibility), but... hell, like Frisk said--they have to try, right?

“Lay it on me,” he says.

\---

“ _ **Um**_ ,” says Flowey, stare rooted on the waving figure and the open door.

« _That’s the door. That’s the gray door. That’s where Gaster is,_ » says the human, and they sound terribly frightened. Papyrus is of course not frightened at all, being a very courageous future Royal Guard, but he continues to feel rather... put-off. Still! His friends are counting on him! So he turns his body so he can use an arm to shield the human and Flowey from... whatever it is they’re looking at. Then, because it feels like the right thing to do, he waves back.

Flowey hisses to him, “What are you _doing_?!”

“Being... being polite?” Papyrus hazards. He keeps seeing something in his peripheral vision--something like letters. Whenever he tries to look at them, though, they’re not there. They, too, make him feel... put-off. Like he’s forgotten something very important.

Flowey makes a weird noise. “Hey, human,” he mutters. “Is that Gaster?”

« _N-no, I don’t... I don’t know what that is... His followers were gray people, and this is... Wait! Wait, maybe I do know!_ » The SOUL brightens within their jar, seeping light through Papyrus’s scarf, and they call, « _Are you the third one?_ »

The figure stops waving. Then an orb of red light burns a hole-within-a-hole in its head area. A red upwards crescent slashes open a few inches underneath. Papyrus is getting more and more put-off by the minute.

« _You are, aren’t you?_ » the human insists.

The figure’s head-space bobs up and down.

« _Do you know what happened to us? What was the trick?_ »

The figure points a hand-nub back at the gray door.

« _I... don’t understand. Are you saying Gaster did this to us after all?_ »

The figure points again. Its orblight narrows into a small, upward curve.

« _Is there a way to get him to... to undo it?_ »

The figure points again. Its motion is more of a jab now. The human makes an uncertain, uneasy noise and doesn’t speak.

“Psst. Flowey,” Papyrus whispers, inasmuch as he’s capable of whispering. “What’s going on? What’s ‘the third one’??”

“I don’t know,” he replies. His expression is somewhere between fascinated and frightened. “I have no idea who that is or what’s going on. Golly! Isn’t this something else?”

It’s something else, all right. Something else besides something good or reassuring!! If even Flowey doesn’t know what’s going on, when Flowey is one of the smartest, wisest people Papyrus knows, then...?!?

« _Oh, sorry,_ » says the human. « _Flowey, Papyrus, this is... well, I don’t know Their name. I’m not sure They have one. They, uh... used to be in my body with me? They helped me with... um... conflict resolution._ »

“Conflict resol--oh. _Oh_ ,” Flowey utters. “OH. Oh, I know what _You_ are now.” A sly smile slides across his face. “So this is Your true form, huh...? I didn’t think You could exist outside a host! Or maybe...” His smile grows. “DidJa wanna try something different too, huh?”

The figure curls its nubs up towards its crescent smile and shakes. It looks like it’s laughing. Papyrus doesn’t see what’s so funny.

“Golly. Golly gee whiz. This is so interesting!” Flowey chirps, brightening. “Okay. I’m game now. Let’s go take a look-see inside that door, huh, friends?”

« _No._ »

Flowey’s smile vanishes. “What?”

“Um, Flowey,” Papyrus intercedes, “I’m glad that you seem to know what’s going on now! Could you please tell me too before we go anywhere??”

“Oh. Right.” He beams at him. “That, my friend, is a being from another world! Neat, huh? Well, I see from the look on your face that you don’t really get it. Don’t worry! Without a host, They’re basically powerless. There’s nothing to be afraid of!”

« _Yes there is,_ » the human insists. « _I don’t care who says so. I don’t want to go back in there._ »

Flowey keeps smiling. “You’ve already lost your body, friend. What else do you have to lose?”

« _I don’t want to go in there!_ »

“Papyrus, back me up here,” Flowey says. “You’re big and strong and brave! Tell this scaredy-cat you’ll protect them or something, huh, future Royal Guard?”

Papyrus puffs out his chest. Flowey always says the nicest things! “Flowey is right! I will definitely protect you, human!!” he declares. “But... you shouldn’t have to go anywhere that makes you afraid, either!!”

Flowey frowns. “Wait, what?”

« _Really?_ » the human says, relieved.

“Yes, really!!” Papyrus says, beaming at his friends. “You can just wait outside here for us while we investigate!”

“Gosh! I know you’re trying to be nice, Papyrus, but I don’t think you two have thought this through,” Flowey laments. “Are you really gonna leave the human’s SOUL _all alone_ while me and you have an adventure? That’s _not_ very nice, huh?”

“Oh. Um. You have a point,” Papyrus admits.

« _I’m not going in there!_ »

“So you wanna be alone instead?” says Flowey.

« _...No..._ »

“I don’t want to leave you all alone either,” he reassures them. “Boy, how scary that would be when you don’t even have a body anymore! Don’t worry. You’re not going _anywhere_ without me. Does that make you feel better?”

The human makes a low, distressed noise. It makes Papyrus upset to hear it. He doesn’t want his friend so unhappy! But Flowey’s right; they can’t just leave them here. Papyrus is sure that creepy figure is probably sweet as can be when you get to know them, and it seems like the human knows them pretty intimately, but for right now he really doesn’t like the idea of leaving the human alone with them. Just. To be on the safe side. It’s not good to leave your friends alone with people you don’t know!!

Letter-symbols dance even more violently at the edges of his vision. As uneasy as they make him, it feels like they’re telling him this is the right decision.

“Besides,” Flowey continues, waving a leaf, “your body might be in there! Are you really gonna make yourself stay a SOUL forever, just because you’re a little jumpy?”

« _I... I don’t know... I want Ch--I want my body back... Having people around helps, but it’s so hard to think as just a SOUL..._ »

“See? You’re pretty much pure emotion right now! And you’re letting your emotion get the better of you. If you could just think it through logically, you’d know there’s nothing to be scared of!” Flowey insists. “Good thing you’ve got me to be logical for you, huh, human?”

The human makes another distressed, reluctant noise, but Papyrus gets the feeling that they’re running out of will to protest. He looks over at the figure, who watches the three of them, and brings a hand to his mouth in concern. Boy, he wishes he could ask Undyne for her advice!! ...Although, she’d probably have long since leapt through the door while calling the rest of them weenies for standing around talking. Papyrus wishes Sans were here, too. Not that Sans would do much, but a) he’d really like this creepy other-world stuff and weird hyper-dimensional doors, and b) he’d probably have cracked a bunch of bad jokes (ugh) and made the human feel better by now (yay). That’s really what Papyrus wants--to help make his poor friend less afraid.

And, just like that, what he should do becomes clear to him.

\---

The washer buzzer interrupts before Chara can properly start, and with great effort (way more than he really wants to spend right now, but Chara helps by dangling the story over his head), Sans transfers the wash to the dryer. After turning it on, he returns to the couch, where Chara awaits him. They definitely look more vibrant now. They must have high hopes for his ability to turn their story into something useful. Sans wishes he had that much faith in himself. He reaches into his pocket to touch Papyrus’s note, then nods the other-kid on.

“I told you before that we met Gaster behind a gray door,” Chara begins, hugging their knees. Thank god, they’ve stopped tearing their fingernails off. He didn’t say anything because you have to pick your battles, but boy was it creepy. “But that’s not the only door in this world that’s more than what it seems. There’s doors everywhere that remain shut no matter how much you want them to open, spaced equally among doors that open when you don’t want them to.” They give him a thin smile. “Of course, some of this is metaphorical, but I’m talking about a real door right now.”

“Uh huh.”

“Behind this door... well. You know that dog that’s always harassing Papyrus?”

“Yeah, it makes him real _pup_ set. What about it?”

Chara smiles briefly. “That ‘pup’ is originally from behind this door. It’s not _really_ a puppy; it just takes that form. In truth, it’s a lot stronger and more influential than it seems. You could say it’s the creative force behind everything that happens.”

Damn. If anything were to convince Sans that Chara’s on the level, this is it. He keeps a straight face (for him) and asks, “You trying to tell me that God really is just ‘dog’ backwards?”

Chara laughs. “No, but that’s a good one and I’ll have to remember it. No, that wasn’t where I was going with this, but yes, basically.”

“So... yes or no, which is it?”

“Both. Neither. Take your pick? I told you, it’s not really a puppy. It just takes that form. That’s how it appeared before me, anyway.”

“Uh huh. So, uh. What’s the deal with this mutt?”

“It’s not the only one. There’s a second one, though its body behind that door is just an empty husk now.” They purse their lips as they glance to one side. “I didn’t want to tell you about this, but... the entity that the second puppy used to be? Was sharing this body with Frisk and me. They’ve never told me Their True Name, so I’ve been calling Them ‘the third one.’”

“Sounds like three’s a crowd,” Sans quips, but a seed of dread starts sprouting inside him.

They snort and look back at him. “It’s hard to describe what exactly They are outside of dog form. It’s kind of like... a back-up dose of determination. That little extra push when Frisk or I might’ve given up. That applies to either getting past a fight peacefully... or killing a really strong enemy.” They smile bitterly. “I told you before that if it’d been _just_ me, I probably wouldn’t have killed everyone. That’s why.”

Sweat rolls down the side of Sans’s skull. “And this, uh... this is an actual, literal third consciousness besides you and Frisk with Their own individual will and desires?”

Chara opens their mouth, hesitates. “I... uh... yeah, but...” Their squeeze their legs. “No, that’s basically it. I used to think of Them as...” They gesture vaguely at the air. “A sort of guardian angel. They supported us in battle and guided us. I thought Their goal was to help us achieve _our_ goals. But...” Their mouth twists downwards. “I’m such an idiot. I should’ve realized at the end of the last timeline, when They suddenly stopped interfering and let me spare you. There wasn’t any reason to kill everyone and there never was. They just...” They grind their teeth. “They just want to see what happens! They don’t care about anything else!”

_Let_ them... spare him. Sans files that away. “Whose idea was it to track down Gaster?”

They glance away. “...Mine. But... without Them, we’d never have found him.”

Oh boy. Sans really doesn’t like where this is going. “So, uh. Just to make sure. Can you even still use your time powers anymore, now that They’re gone?”

The question paralyzes their expression for an instant. “I... I don’t know. I haven’t tried,” they admit quietly, then grimace. “I’ve been scared to.”

Sans gets that. He hates that he gets it. Knowing for sure that they’re powerless, that they can never go back, that they’ve lost someone they love and will never see them again... When it was him, he was scared to confirm it, too. Finding out for sure just made it worse. “Better leave it that way for now,” he says. “Otherwise you’ll have to tell me that story all over again.” He winks. “Might as well save yourself the trouble.”

But now they look stricken. “Frisk... wanted to hear the rest of that story too...”

“Hey, kid,” Sans says cautiously, “you can still tell ‘em--”

But they clutch their head and ignore him. “They wanted to hear the rest, too! But I just wanted to tell it now! I didn’t--I didn’t even stop to think about them!”

“Easy, easy,” Sans says, holding out both hands. “You needed to tell me that story, remember? So we could figure out how to find Frisk. You didn’t do anything wrong.” _For once,_ he’s tempted to add, but this isn’t the time for caustic humor. Good thing he didn’t, because not only is his reassurance totally ineffective, they start to freak out even worse.

“I did _everything_ wrong!!” they yell, voice cracking, as they bury their face in their knees. “I’m _always_ doing everything wrong!! Even when I try to do the right thing, it all goes wrong!! And now--this is all because I was selfish and scared! Frisk wouldn’t have gone looking for Gaster if I hadn’t talked them into it! They’d have backed out long before anything happened! All of this... it’s all my fault! _Everything_ is my fault! EVERYTHING is my fault!!”

This reaction seems overblown to Sans, which probably means there’s a hell of a lot of still-packed baggage under the surface that would make it all make sense if he just knew about it. Uneasy and uncomfortable, he nonetheless gives them physical and verbal space to vent.

“God, why couldn’t I have stayed dead?” they cry, digging their fingers into their scalp. “Wasn’t the first screw-up enough? Why did I have to come back to mess everything up all over again? Whose sick idea of a joke _is_ this?! Frisk didn’t even do anything wrong! Why do they have to suffer for my mistake? This is even worse than before!! And I can’t do _anything_ to fix this. Everything’s gone, forever.” Their breath shudders, and they spit, “I bet _you’re_ happy, Sans. Now there’ll never be a reset again, just like you wanted!”

“I didn’t want this, kid,” Sans murmurs. It’s not lost on him that this is the polar opposite of what they said before.

“Of course not! Who would ever want _this_?” They gesture at themselves again, then start to laugh. It’s got a hysterical edge to it like before, though Sans only notices it now. “I always wanted to be someone who wasn’t me! Ahahaha! And now I am! Ahahahaha!! But I’m still just as dirty and ugly and hateful inside!!” They grab their head again and curl up on themselves, still laughing in despair. “I can’t even kill myself to make it right, because I’ll just come back again and again and again!! The only way I could stop is if--”

They cut themselves off. Sans doesn’t like that at all.

“ _You_ could do it,” they whisper. They stare up at him slowly with a twisted glimmer of hope in their eyes. “You could _erase_ me.” They jerk up to their knees and grab his shirt, and it takes everything Sans has to do no more than flinch. “You want to, don’t you? I’m the source of all your misfortunes. Just--just wipe me out of existence! Do it! You know you want to!!”

_God dammit,_ Sans thinks, struggling to keep his breath under control. _What is with this kid and zeroing in on my weak points?_

Slowly, carefully, he puts his hands over Chara’s. “Hold up, kiddo. Seriously, the ‘source of all my misfortunes’? That’s a hell of an ego trip you’ve got going on.” He starts to ease their hands off the fabric of his shirt. “You’re only a fraction of what’s wrong with my life, so you don’t need to shoulder all the blame.”

The quiet disappointment on their face hurts a lot more than Sans thought it would have. “You aren’t going to erase me, are you,” they murmur, letting their grip come undone. “Haha... I should’ve figured. It’s a much bigger punishment to make me live with what I’ve done.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Sans admits, “but that’s not why I’m not going to erase you.”

They avert their eyes and say nothing.

“The fact is, I can’t.” He shuts his left eye. “I don’t know what you heard from any previous versions of me, but... if I had that kind of power, I’d have used it when I fought you last timeline.”

Their eyes widen. “Oh.” They deflate. “Oh. That makes... sense.” They pause, then look up at him sharply. “Wait, but you said something about a ‘special attack.’ Isn’t that--”

“ _Chara_.” Sans stares them down for a couple of seconds, then concludes, “I’m not lying. My special attack’s something else entirely. I can’t erase you.”

They stare back with hazy eyes, as if he’d spoken in Wingdings and they have no translation handy. Then they slump. Their hands fall away from his. They look so fragile like that... Like if he reached out and tapped them, they’d crumble to dust.

He watches them for a moment, then assumes a casual, confident demeanor. “But hey! That’s a good thing! The kid--that is, Frisk--would really miss you if you stopped existing.” He pauses. “Hmm... You’ve got a look on your face like... you don’t think you’ll ever see them again anyway, so what’s it matter.” He winks. “C’mon, bucko. You haven’t even asked me what I think about your story yet.”

“Who cares,” they mumble.

“Uh. You should. Because I put some things together thanks to it.”

They look up, lighting up with surprise. “Wait, what? But...”

“Yeah, I know. You weren’t done yet. But I wasn’t asking questions for no reason,” Sans tells them. “I’ve got a pretty good hunch of where the kid’s SOUL is now.”

In their eyes, hope sparkles timidly against a dark backdrop of the fear to hope. “Really?”

“Yup. You said it yourself, Chara. This kinda thing’s my field of expertise,” he reassures them. “It’s not gonna be easy, but I’m sure you already figured that.”

The hope sparkles a little brighter, and the fear to hope blackens a little darker. “What do I need to do?”

“ _You_ need to get that letter to Alphys. Hey, don’t give me that look! I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, but, uh, they’re not exactly for a live audience, if you get what I mean.” He winks. “But you’ve still got to get that better ending Frisk wanted on track. You’re the only one who can do it, Chara.”

“I’ll just mess it up. I mess up everything important,” they murmur, glancing away.

“You’re basically trying to be better friends with her, right? Pshhht, that’s easy-sauce. Just ask her to show you _Mew Mew Kissy Cutie_ and you’re golden.” Sans shrugs, as if it were the simplest task in the world. “You jump-start what you and Frisk were trying to do, and I’ll get the kid’s SOUL back so you two can finish it together. Sound good?”

But they still look troubled. At least they seem to be thinking it over. “You’re probably right about _Mew Mew_ , but... what if you can’t find Frisk’s SOUL?”

“Kid. Trust me, I’ll find it.” And, because their shoulders still sag with the weight of hopelessness, he adds, “I’ll even promise you.”

_That_ gets their attention. They look back up, eyes wide. “Really? But... you hate making promises.”

“Then that oughtta tell you how confident I’ve got to be about this,” Sans counters. “I’ll find Frisk’s SOUL and bring it back, Chara. I promise.”

Relief warms their expression. “...Okay.” They reach up and clasp the heart-shaped locket around their neck. “I just... I just need to ask Alphys to watch _Mew Mew_ , right? A-and give her the letter. I can do that.”

“There you go, kiddo,” Sans encourages them. “S’not so overwhelming when you break it down into little pieces.” The dryer buzzer rings out then, and he glances over at the door under the stairs. “Sounds like that’s our cue. You go get dressed and I’ll shoot her a text, let her know we’re coming.”

“...Okay.” They slip off the couch and walk over to the bath/laundry room. They pause outside the door, then look back over their shoulder at him. “...Thanks, Sans. For everything.”

“ _De nada_.”

They smile. It’s actually pretty cute? For the first time, despite all the times he’s called them “kid” and “other-kid,” Sans gets the feeling like they really are a child rather than just possessing one. No, that’s not quite right; he got that feeling back when they admitted they were hiding their face because he told them never to show it to him again. He just didn’t want to accept the implications, because it’s hard to keep hating someone you just thought was adorable. He considers that when they shut the door behind them. How old are they, really? And, at that young age, how immense a burden are they dragging with them?

He gets up and turns towards the door, smile fading, as he pulls out his phone. _De nada_. There’s nothing to be thankful for--literally. He’d meant it when he said he was going to search for Frisk’s SOUL no matter what, but though one of the team’s old theories has gotten a lot more supporting evidence, he has no better an idea of _where_ or _how_ to look than he did before. _De nada_. There’s nothing to be thankful for, because he’s got nothing to offer but a bunch of hot air and pretty lies to soothe a violently depressed suicide spirit.

_This is why I hate making promises,_ he thinks, black-eyed, as he texts Alphys. It’s hard enough to keep just himself afloat, but... well, hell. When it was him, he really could’ve used someone in his corner. Someone who understood. Someone who knew about _any_ of this. As mixed as his feelings on Chara are, Sans can’t bring himself to leave this one alone.

_Ohh boy. Now I_ have _to think up something, or else._

\---

“Hey,” Flowey utters. “What’re you doing?”

“Putting you and the human down,” Papyrus explains patiently. “Oof. You really tied these roots tight, didn’t you?”

“Why?”

“Because!! You’re right! The human shouldn’t have to wait out here all alone! But they also shouldn’t go someplace that scares them! Therefore!!” Papyrus grins in what he’s certain is a dashing way and poses with one hand on his chest. “The great Papyrus will go in alone and prove that there is nothing to be afraid of!! Then you two can come in after!” He beams at his cool friend. “Will that make you feel better, human?”

The red heart bobs up and down, much more lively. « _I think so. Thanks, Papyrus. But... will you be okay?_ »

“Pshhht, of course I’ll be okay!!” Papyrus scoffs, waving one hand. “There is nothing the great Papyrus cannot do! Nyeh heh heh!”

Flowey raises an eyebrow, then smiles and uncoils his roots from Papyrus’s armor. “That works for me! We’ll be right here!”

Once his friends are safely settled on the ground, Papyrus stands tall to both strike an impressive figure to Flowey and to be a source of reassurance for the human. This is what he was meant to be! The strong yet gentle knight that his dear friends can look to for protection and comfort! When he thinks of it that way, there’s nothing to fear at all--not the symbols spasming desperately at the edge of his vision, and definitely not the darker-than-black figure still leering creepily at the end of the hall!

He strides boldly through the gray door and past the gray corridor into the gray room. There’s absolutely nothing inside, although he thinks that it’s in critical need of a cleaning when he knocks on one of the walls and a little gray plaster drifts down. It’s disappointing that the human’s body doesn’t seem to be inside, but! But!! That doesn’t mean it’s not hidden somewhere, cunningly disguised by a puzzle set by the mysterious Dr. Gaster! In any case, it looks like the room is safe, so he turns and waves wildly to Flowey and the human, who wait on the other side of the door.

“Everything is fine!!” he calls to them as brightly and cheerfully and encouragingly as he can. “Come on in, you two, there’s nothing to worry ab--”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There’s doors everywhere that remain shut no matter how much you want them to open, spaced equally among doors that open when you don’t want them to." Chara is paraphrase-quoting _The Great Book of Amber_ by Roger Zelazny.


	19. I’m Not Who She Thinks I Am

Frisk still feels uneasy about the whole situation, but just having Papyrus around makes them feel a lot better. Being just a SOUL is an experience that goes beyond “weird.” They can’t feel their body. They never thought of themselves as being attached to it, but now that they’re _literally_ not attached to it, they find there’s a lot to miss. Like, for example, the sensation of anything at all.

The SOUL-preserving jar that Papyrus got for them helps a lot. Before, when Flowey found them, they had such a hard time concentrating on anything beyond a general emotion. They followed Flowey and warmed him when he was cold because they want to be a good friend to him. They didn’t want to go into the jar because they were scared of being enclosed. Just... general, vague feelings like that. Whatever this jar is, it’s really given them clarity, and let them convey their thoughts directly to their friends. Flowey helped a little. Papyrus helped a lot. And if Papyrus does find their body inside the gray room, then they can go back to it and this awful nightmare can finally be over.

“See?” Flowey says smugly when Papyrus walks around inside the room to no apparent ill effect. “I _told_ you it was fine.”

« _Sorry,_ » they say, because they’re glad to be wrong about this. Shadows still paint the hallway black. The third one watches them from afar, shaking. Frisk figures They must have fallen out of their body too, and they wonder if They’re okay. God, what if Chara fell out too? Without a SOUL, where would they go? Or are they with the third one? With Flowey here, they can’t openly ask, and they can’t help but worry.

Papyrus turns around and waves wildly to them and Flowey. He looks as cheerful as ever, so Gaster must be gone. Maybe even their body’s in there? It fills Frisk with hope.

“Everything is fine!!” he shouts. “Come on in, you two, there’s nothing to worry ab--”

The gray door slams shut and vanishes.

For Frisk, the world stops.

« _Papyrus?_ » they squeak.

The shadows stir and begin to swirl around them; though the door has vanished, the corridor has not, and the darkness is beginning to box them in. Flowey, who’d been stunned into silence, whips back and forth in apparent surprise as the third one flows along the shadows, at first leisurely, then frenetically, until they rise up out of the ground in front of them. It’s like staring into a hole in reality slashed open with a red eye and a redder smile. Frisk trembles inside their jar, and Flowey shrinks away.

“H-hey,” he utters, and his voice is trembling too. “What gives? Y-you’re not supposed to have any power outside of a host!”

The red eye flattens upwards in apparent amusement, and tendrils of shadow begin to creep towards the jar. Frisk throws themselves against its walls, but the same device that crystallizes their consciousness also keeps them trapped.

« _Asriel, help!_ » they cry.

But Flowey’s already thrown vines around the jar. “You can’t have them! They’re mine!!” he shrieks.

The third one’s neck stretches out, melty, dripping, and brings Their face right up in front of Frisk and Flowey. Frisk no longer has lungs with which to gasp or a throat with which to choke, but something in them still feels paralyzed to see Them up so close. The darkness at their roots creep yet closer, plodding but sharp, as though They _could_ cleave close in an instant just like the head, but They’re deliberately taking Their time.

Flowey makes a strangled noise and burrows underground. For a split-second, Frisk is at a loss, until his vines yank their jar underground too.

\---

Alphys is beside herself with excitement by the time Sans and the human arrive. It’s! Finally! _Mew Mew_ time!! To be honest, she half-figured that the human wouldn’t really show for it before they left for the surface, that they just said they would to be nice, but here they are!! Appearing out of nowhere!! Like Sans likes to do!!!!

She really wishes he’d stop doing that. If he hadn’t texted her a head’s-up, he’d have given her a heart attack. _Again_.

“Omigosh!! You’re here!!” she squeals all the same, lighting up when she sees the human. She scurries over from her spot in front of the computer, where she’s set up a second seat (and a third, in case Sans sticks around). They seem a little shy, given how they stick close to behind Sans, but they tend to be kind of quiet, so that’s probably normal. “I’ve already got the first ten episodes queued and the ramen’s almost done and there’s extra soda in the fridge and, oh!! I managed to get some chocolate bars!”

A smile lights up their entire face. “Really? You’ve got chocolate?”

“Yup! I mean, I don’t know how good it is, but...”

They step out from behind Sans and trot past her over to the fridge. Alphys trails off, staring at them. Is it just her, or is there something a little... off about them? M-maybe it’s just her. No, it must just be her. They asked for chocolate and everything. They must be excited to finally have it.

“Hey. Sorry for the short notice,” Sans says.

Alphys re-focuses on him. “Oh, uh! It’s no problem! We were going to marathon _Mew Mew_ anyway!” Plus she needed something to distract her and cheer her up anyway, she doesn’t add. “Did you wanna watch with us? I can put on a third thing of ramen if you want... I got beef flavor--your favorite!”

“Holy _cow_ ,” he replies, winking. She snort-giggles. “But nah. I got a lot of work to do.”

“And it’s not going to stay undone by itself, right?” Alphys guesses wryly.

He laughs. “Welp, see ya.” He turns, then pauses. “Oh, right. Almost forgot.” He turns back to her, glances over at the human, and murmurs, “Just between you and me, the kid’s had a rough day. Don’t take it personally if they act a little... weird, all right?”

“O-oh.” That must be why they seemed a little off. She sneaks a peek at them; they’ve already taken a big bite out of one of the chocolate bars and now chew it slowly with an expression of bliss. Their nails, she can now see, look like a mess--is one of them scabbed? “Um, okay. W-we all have days like that, huh, Sans?”

He just keeps smiling. He never does like to acknowledge his... personal problems. Not that Alphys can blame him. “If there’s any problems, just shoot me a text.”

Alphys stares at him. The way he says that, it almost sounds like he’s... trying to take responsibility? Even though he’s literally dumping the human on her? Not that she _minds_ , she’s really been looking forward to this marathon, but now that she thinks about it, there’s something a little off about Sans today, too, though she’s not sure what.

“Uh, s-sure,” she stammers, because it’s not like he’d own up to it if she called him out on it, anyway.

“Welp, see ya,” he repeats, then saunters over to the door.

Alphys doesn’t try to see him off; she already knows that the instant he’s on the other side, he won’t be anywhere in sight. Instead, she turns towards the human, who’s still savoring that first bite of chocolate.

“S-so hey! Y-you ready for some _Mew Mew_?!” she gushes, trundling up to them.

They look over at her and nod. They seem pretty happy. God, she’s glad she got that chocolate like they asked. If they’re having a bad day... maybe this will help cheer them up? The ramen’s done a minute later, and she ladles out a bowlful for each of them: seafood flavoring for herself, and (after they point to what they want) shrimp for the human. Then, once they’re both settled in in front of the computer, she full-screens the first episode and presses play.

It is _so hard_ not to sing along to the opening theme, the lyrics to which she knows by heart. She bounces along in her seat instead, glancing frequently over at the human to make sure they’re paying attention and not bored or anything. They’re ignoring their ramen for the chocolate bar (well, if they’re having a bad day, of course they’d want something sweet, right?), but they’re at least not ignoring the screen. The eleventh time she glances at them, they catch her eye and smile, then focus back on the episode. Alphys tries not to blush, but is certain based on how hot her face feels that she’s failing miserably. A-at least they seem into it?

She’s licked her bowl clean by the end of the episode. The human finally picked up their ramen bowl at the eyecatch, but they haven’t eaten much, having spent more time watching the show. Alphys is pretty pumped that they’re so interested, and when the credits have finished rolling, she turns to them eagerly.

“So what’d you think? I mean! There’s still a lot of basic exposition left in the next couple episodes! They like to pace it out instead of dumping it all at once, which is great! So if you’re confused, don’t worry! They’ll explain it!” she tells them. “Isn’t Mew Mew the sweetest?! You really have to feel for her!”

“Yeah, she’s a lot nicer about everything than you’d think someone in her position would be. Those humans were awful to her,” the human replies. “Then again, that’s normal.”

“Oh... uh... r-really?”

“Yeah, humans suck.” They slurp up some more noodles, which is great, because it gives Alphys space to be awkwardly silent. They make a face. “Blegh. I should’ve at least eaten this while it was still hot.”

“O-oh, um, if you want, I could... put it back on the stove for you...?”

“Nah.” They shovel down the rest of the noodles without drinking the broth (did it matter what flavor they picked...?), then stack the bowl on top of hers and wipe their mouth with their sleeve. “So, you really like shows about girls kissing girls, huh?”

It’s a good thing Alphys finished her ramen long ago, because she’s not sure she would have survived choking on them. “Wh-wh-what are you talking about?!”

“Well, Mew Mew kissed that one girl who was bullying her, right? To mind-control her and make her and the other bullies stop.”

“Oh, well, um, yes... b-but that’s just how her powers work!!”

The human gives her a thoughtful look. “But the fact that it has girls kissing girls is part of why you like the show so much, right?”

_Oh my god,_ Alphys thinks, covering her face with both hands. If she stepped outside right now, she’s sure she could conduct traffic with her face alone. ...If the underground had traffic, anyway. Because, well, the human’s not WRONG? But, god, why are they bringing this up now?? And why would they even _oh my god Mettaton’s quiz_.

“Y-you got this idea from the quiz show, didn’t you...?” she squeaks.

“Oh, are we talking about Undyne now?” they say brightly, making Alphys want to die a little more than usual. “I was trying to be subtle, but since you brought her up...” They pull out an envelope from their pocket. “Here! Undyne asked me to give this to you. I wanted to, uh, hang out with you a little before I did, though.” All of a sudden, they look uncertain. “I hope that was okay...?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Alphys yelps, grabbing the letter. “I mean you got to see a little of _Mew Mew_! Um, _do_ you like it so far...?”

“Yeah, it’s interesting. It’s not really what I expected it to be?” They smile. “I’d like to see more. Maybe after you open that letter?”

“Oh, um, sure, if it’s a letter from Undyne--” Alphys gets to her feet--the envelope is sealed _very_ tightly--and trundles over to where she keeps her power tools. The human gets up and follows her, watching from a polite distance as she sears open the edge of the envelope and pulls out the letter inside.

The letter itself says...

“O-oh. Oh my,” Alphys utters, eyes widening as she reads. “Oh my god. Oh my GOD! This letter is from UNDYNE? To ME???”

“Yup!” the human chirps.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD! Oh my god?? Oh my _god_. Oh my god!!!” Alphys clutches her face with both hands and does a little twirly dance, and she knows she probably looks weird as hell with how hard she’s grinning but she can’t stop herself and she doesn’t want to stop, she feels like she’s made of air and yuri rose petals. It’s like she’s been invited to a new era! “Oh my gooooooooddddd!!!” she squeals.

“Wow, sounds like she said some really nice things! You should give her a call,” the human prompts. “Let her know what you think of her.”

Alphys stumbles to a halt. “C-call. Call _Undyne_? A-and tell her...?!”

“She likes you, right? That letter makes it obvious.” The human gives her a knowing look. “And you like her back. Don’t even try to deny it, I know you do. So, give her a call and ask her out on a date. She’ll be happy, you’ll be happy, and I’ll be happy!” They beam at her. Then they add hastily, “For you.”

“I-I-I... oh my god I don’t know,” Alphys babbles, clutching her face. “W-what if this is just... some big misunderstanding? I mean, she’s way out of my league... and...” She hangs her head. “I-I’ve been lying to her. About a lot of things. I’m not... I’m not who she thinks I am. If she knew the real me...” She hunches in on herself. “She’d hate me. Everyone would.”

The human doesn’t reply. For a blood-chilling moment, Alphys wonders if she’s said too much, if she’s weirded them out, if maybe after all the gross things she did combined with that just now they’ve decided they’ve had enough and they’re just trying to think of a nice excuse to get out and away from her.

Then they reach out and tentatively touch the sleeve of her lab coat. She flinches and blinks at them, rapid-fire.

“Let’s watch some more _Mew Mew_ ,” they murmur, not meeting her eyes.

\---

Undyne hasn’t had any luck finding ANYONE today.

It should’ve been easy! Take the ferry from Snowdin to Hotland, Alphys’s lab is right there, BAM, knock on the door and ask Alphys if the human gave her the letter yet. Except nobody answered when she knocked. She knocked a lot, too!! She almost knocked the door off the hinges but, uh, she thought it’d be rude and disrupt all Alphys’s projects or whatever if she didn’t have a front door. Hotland’s heat SUCKS.

So she figured--okay, maybe Alphys is out somewhere? Maybe she’s with the human. Maybe she already got the letter and--oh god. So from there she goes back down to the ferry and hops a ride to Waterfall (and GOOD RIDDANCE HOTLAND. Except for the bits with Alphys and Asgore in them. GOOD RIDDANCE, MOST OF HOTLAND) and tries to ask around if anybody’s seen either Alphys or the human. Nobody’s seen Alphys today, but a few monsters have seen the human wandering around recently.

Which kind of ticks her off?? She TOLD them to deliver that letter as soon as possible!! What the hell are they in Waterfall for?! But whatever. They’ve probably got a good reason, like they had to help an old monster cross the gap or somebody jumped them in the dump or something. It’s always something with that poor kid.

And if she’s being honest with herself, she’s not really mad at all. Acting mad just helps distract her from being _worried_ , which she’s been since before she left Snowdin to search for them. She keeps calling them, but they don’t pick up. If anyone’s hurt them... SHE’S GOING TO KICK THE ASS OF WHOEVER DID IT.

She’s heading over to Gerson’s shop to ask him if the kid’s dropped in when, to her mild surprise, she sees Sans strolling up from the opposite direction. She slows and stares at him, and he grins up at her like she’s totally not technically his boss and he’s totally not supposed to be on the job right now.

“Sup, Undyne,” he tells her, carefree as ever.

She narrows her eye at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the clock right now?”

“I sure am. That’s why I figured it was _time_ for a walk.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Have you seen the human around?”

“Huh? Why?”

So she gives him a brief rundown about the letter they were supposed to deliver and how they haven’t been picking up their phone and DEFINITELY NOT about how she might possibly be concerned for her BFF’s well-being.

“Oh.” He looks thoughtful. “Have you tried Alphys’s?”

“I already SAID, I went there first!”

“I think you should try Alphys’s.”

“Ugh!! You’re such a bonehead, Sans!”

“Heh heh. Flattery gets you nowhere, Undyne,” he says, winking. “Anyway, I gotta get back on patrol.”

“But you don’t _do_ patrol, you man the sentry station!!”

“Really? Whoops. Guess I better patrol my way back to my station, then.”

“Yeah, you better!!”

Honestly, who _hires_ this guy? He’s such a lazybones, but he’s got like three or four stations that he slacks off equally at! God, she was so mad when she saw him snoozing away at the Hotland entrance. The human literally scampered past right under his nose! ...well, not that she didn’t end up befriending the human later, but that’s not the _point_. The point is...

Undyne shakes her head. Nah. Forget it. She’d grill him more, maybe suplex him to put him in line, but she’s gotta find the human and/or Alphys. If Gerson hasn’t seen either of them, she’ll try hitting the dump again and... well, she may as well try Alphys’s. Maybe he’s right and Alphys came back home after Undyne left.

“Oh, yeah, Undyne.”

She looks over her shoulder at him. “Huh? What?”

“Papyrus said he had a mission he had to leave Snowdin for all of a sudden. You know anything about that?”

“Huh?” She squints. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah. I figured you might not.” He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. Just figured I’d ask.”

She squints harder. “Okay??”

God, that Sans. He’s an okay guy, she guesses? She doesn’t _hate_ him. The Snowdin townspeople like him, and Alphys likes him, and that’s what counts. But he’s kind of a weirdo sometimes. Well, whatever. She scratches her head, then lets him go on his way while she goes on hers.

_What a random thing to ask, though,_ she thinks. _I mean--who’s Papyrus??_

\---

After the second episode, Alphys would be more than happy to roll right into the third, then the fourth, and so on until the entire show is done and she has bathed once again in her feels, but her constant, surreptitious checks on the human make her pause episode three once the opening sequence starts.

“A-are you feeling okay?” she asks. “You look, um... a-a little distracted.”

“What? No, I’m fine,” they say, which just kind of confirms it.

“Um... like... is there anything I can get you?” she presses, clacking her claws together meekly. “I want, you know, for you to have a good time, so...”

They smile a little and nibble at the chocolate bar they’ve been working on since they arrived. “I am. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

And just them saying so makes her happy, but it also makes her sad, because she’s never _really_ happy, just temporarily distracted from her self-loathing. She’s tempted to drop it at that, to hit play and Mew² it up, but... she’s really got to stop pretending that everything’s okay when it’s not. She knows they’re not having a good day and pretending otherwise... Like, Sans is the master of the understatement. If he says the human “had a bad day,” then who knows how bad it _actually_ is? God, and she literally only just thought of that. Great friending there, her!

“U-um... are you sure...?” she squeaks, heart pounding. “I, um... I-I don’t know if I should mention this, but, um... Sans mentioned something in passing...”

Their smile fades.

“...that you were having a bad day...”

They glance away.

“A-and, um! If you’re just not... feeling good, we can totally do something else!” she declares, sweating. “Even if it’s just, like, crawling under the desk and feeling like garbage! Haha... haha... ha...”

They nibble again at their chocolate bar. “Thanks, but I’m fine. You got chocolate.”

“Hehe... You really like that stuff, huh?” Alphys says, smiling a little. “Well, duh, I guess. Since you requested it and all.”

They pause mid-nibble. “Huh? When did I request this?”

“Uh.” She stares at them. “On your... on your way to fight Mettaton? I-in the Core? W-we, um, were talking about doing a _Mew Mew_ marathon, and you said you wanted chocolate? As, um, as a snack?”

“I don’t...” Their expression clouds, then goes blank. “Oh. Oh, I get... I mean, I remember now.” They smile again, but this time it’s bittersweet, and they toy with the crinkled foil.

That’s... definitely weird. Sans told her not to take it personally if they acted weird, but that’s not the problem here. It’s like... they’re not even the same person? Which is ridiculous because she would think she’d know if she were talking to a different human. This is definitely the human she’s been watching since they left the Ruins. ...Although they kind of hold themselves differently, come to think. And make different expressions. And talk a lot more...

She twiddles her claws and glances away as her heart pounds. “I, uh, I need to use the bathroom,” she announces, then gets over to the elevator door as fast as she can without seeming suspicious.

‘Sans I have a problem,’ she texts the skeleton in question once there.

It’s a nerve-wracking ten seconds before she gets her reply: ‘sup?’

‘There’s something... odd?? ABout the human??’

Another ten seconds. GOD, why can’t he type faster?! ‘odd how?’

‘idk i feel like i’m talking to a totally different person and it’s freaking me out’

‘well uh. you said it urself, we all act funny on a bad day right?’

Alphys types furiously: ‘SANS YOU KNOW SOMETHING. I KNOW YOU DO.’

‘woah alph! ur looking at this from the wrong angle. not to go on a tangent but theyre sine. ill even cosine on em’

Math puns. God. She smiles despite herself. ‘ok but where’s your proof,’ she shoots back. She can just imagine him laughing over that one. It doesn’t last. Before she can face him and walk backwards into pun hell, she quickly types: ‘for real though sans. i’m not in danger am i?’

His answer is surprisingly prompt: ‘do you feel ur in danger’

Alphys thinks about that. Ultimately, she has to admit: ‘no’

‘good,’ says the first text. The second reads, ‘there you go then’ The third? ‘but if u want me 2 pick em up i can do that’

And she’s tempted to say yes, and that makes her guilty. The human’s acting... different? From usual? But they’re watching _Mew Mew_ with her, they tried to encourage her to talk to Undyne, they’re trying to be nice to her and think about her feelings... They’re acting _weird_ but they’re not acting _bad_. When that finally fully dawns on her, she shakes her head.

‘no its ok. srry i just panicked’

‘np’

‘god now im the one acting like a total different person lol. im gonna go check on em makre sure they’re ok, i kinda ditched em’

‘ok’

Alphys tucks her phone away and sighs. After several deep breaths, she manages to compose herself, then walks out of the elevator. “H-hey, sorry about that!” she calls, putting on a big and hopefully not too fake-looking smile. “But you know, when nature calls--”

“H-hey, Alphys!” Undyne bubbles through a fake-looking smile. “Fancy meeting you here!”

\---

“Fancy meeting you here!” Undyne bubbles, and then has to physically stop herself from punching herself in the face.

The human, who’s smugging it up next to her, looks at her askance. “She lives here.”

“Yeah well SHUT UP,” she hisses, having realized that exactly .02 seconds after saying that STUPID ASS thing. “Um, Alphys, about that letter--uh, you okay?”

Alphys is clutching her chest with one hand and the wall with the other. “When did you get here??” she gasps.

“Uh, just now? The kid let me in,” she said, pointing to the human. The human beams, that little stinker. “They, uh...”

“I was just telling Undyne how much you _loved_ the letter she gave you,” they chirp, bouncing up and down on the balls of their feet. “How many ‘oh my god’s was it? Eight? I think it was eight.”

Alphys turns bright red. Undyne is pretty sure she’s a similar hue. Normally she’d KNOCK THE BLOCK off anyone who gave her shit like this, but she knows the human’s just trying to be a good wingperson. Maybe they’re being a little too good?!

“So anyway,” they continue, “I’ll just give you two lovebirds some space.”

Undyne chokes. Alphys covers her face with both hands. The human hops past both of them, pauses just past Alphys, and starts pushing her from behind towards Undyne.

“Wh--hey!” she squeals, flailing.

“Hey, careful there!” Undyne scolds, hurrying forward. Just in time; Alphys ends up tripping, or maybe the human pushed her, and Undyne catches her just in time. Alphys grabs her arms for support and looks up, and _holy hell her face is like RIGHT THERE_.

“So yeah, I’ll give you some space,” the human concludes cheerfully, then hops backwards through the sliding door and out of sight, that amazing little shit.

Undyne grins a grin that’s mostly nerves. She can feel Alphys’s breath on her face. It smells like seafood ramen. “H-hi.”

She grins back, red-faced. “H-hi?”

Undyne slowly picks her up and stands up straight. “So, uh... you read my letter, huh?”

“Um. Heehee. Y-yeah.”

“Man, that’s embarrassing. I coulda written way better than that piece of crap,” she says, pursing her lips in a tiny smile.

“Nononono, it was great!!” Alphys babbles, eyes shining behind her glasses. “I could really feel your, um, passion!! It was... it was... uh...”

Undyne clears her throat and tries not to stare at Alphys’s lips. She’s largely unsuccessful.

“Uhhhhh,” Alphys stalls.

The human pokes their head out from the bathroom. “AND THEN SHE KISSES YOU,” they yell.

Undyne sputters as her heart skips a beat. “Hey, shut up! No one asked you!!”

“SMOOCH! SMOOOOCH! EVERYONE WANTS YOU TO!” they yell, grinning like a little smart-aleck.

“I said SHUT IT, PUNK!!” she roars. She’d yell more, except Alphys squeaks in her arms, and Undyne realizes she might’ve blown her ear drums out. “Oh, sorry, Alphys! Didn’t mean to, uh, yell in your face like that. Man though, can you believe the nerve of that--”

Alphys grabs her face and smooches her.

For the first couple seconds, Undyne is processing reality, that this is one in which the woman she’s been head over heels with for the longest time just kissed HER. And super-aggressively, at that!! When the fact that that’s SUPER HOT sinks in, she tilts her head and squeezes her tight and presses her lips (such as they are) back. Damn, it feels almost like they’re melting together...

Undyne finds herself moving before she realizes it, dancing in a circle and swinging Alphys around with her, laughing in delight before kissing her back over and over again, on her cheeks, on her nose, on her cute little glasses. Alphys laughs too and blushes in the wake of her affection and digs her claws into her shoulders and kisses her back twice as hard.

Pretty soon Undyne’s gotten overexcited and is whirling this adorable little yellow dinosaur as fast as a discus ball before slam-dunking her into the trash can with a resounding “YEAH!!!!” Then she scoops her back up, trash can and all, and dips her over for one last passionate kiss. Alphys is probably pretty dizzy by now, but that sure as hell doesn’t stop her from giving it her all back, and that’s EXACTLY why Undyne loves her so goddamn much.

She wants to say something when she puts her down and gives her some breathing space, but she’s smiling and laughing so hard she can’t even think of what to say. And hell, who really needs to say anything at this point? Alphys is laughing too, and Undyne hasn’t seen her so delighted since she salvaged her prized Mew Mew figurine at the dump. Damn, that makes Undyne feel good, knowing she makes Alphys feel as happy as Mew Mew does.

Over her shoulder, Undyne catches sight of the human watching them from the bathroom entrance. Heh, the little punk’s probably been watching them this whole time. They catch her eye and grin and give her a thumb’s up, and--well, hell, Undyne’s not _really_ mad at them and never was. She gives them a big grin back. They step back out of sight, and Undyne smiles back down at Alphys. She smiles back up at her, and for a second, everything is in perfect bliss.

Then, sounding surprised, the human says, “Hey, this isn’t a bathroom.”

The joy on Alphys’s face blinks out like a busted lightbulb. Undyne blinks rapidly at her, then over at the bathroom door. “Whaddaya mean?” she calls.

Alphys yelps, tearing out of her arms and rushing over to the sliding door. Undyne follows, partly confused, partly concerned. The human’s right, it turns out; the door that Alphys had always claimed was to the bathroom actually leads into an elevator. Maybe there’s a downstairs bathroom? The human looks confused, too, and looks between the two of them for answers. Undyne shrugs, then looks down at Alphys, who seems to shrink in on herself.

“Um,” she breathes. “Um.” Then she sighs, and it’s like she’s deflating or something.

“Alphys, you okay?” Undyne asks, leaning in next to her. “What’s going on here?”

She laughs weakly. “Oh... I just... panicked, is all. I wasn’t... I usually keep this door locked.” She won’t meet her eyes... “Like you, um, already saw... it’s not really a bathroom.”

“Wait. This is my fault,” the human interrupts, somewhere between firm and alarmed. “I wasn’t supposed to go in here. Whatever this is, I don’t need to know about it.”

“No, it’s okay. I... I need to stop hiding what I’ve done,” Alphys says, fidgeting. She gives the two of them a watery smile. For some reason, it lingers on the human. “A-and... I _want_ you to know. Both of you. You deserve it, after all you’ve done for me. And if you decide you’re disgusted with me and you never want to see me again...” She hangs her head. “I understand.”

“WOAH, woah, woah woah woah,” Undyne declares, crossing her arms. “Who said anything about not seeing you again?? Did we or did we not totally just make out, Alphys?”

She blushes, and it almost gets a smile back on her face, but not quite. “I... should’ve told you sooner, Undyne. I’ve been lying to you about a lot of things, and this is one of them. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand,” she says blankly. Lying? What could Alphys possibly be lying to her about? What makes her think it matters, anyway?

But whatever’s going on, it looks like Alphys is resolved about it. Undyne respects that. She walks the rest of the way inside when Alphys beckons her. At Alphys’s instruction, the human presses the button for the bottom floor, looking back and forth between the two of them with an uncertain look on their face. If Undyne didn’t know better, she’d think they might be a little scared. As if!

“I’m going to explain everything,” Alphys murmurs as the elevator starts to descend. “It’s time you and everyone learned the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...she feels like she’s made of air and yuri rose petals. It’s like she’s been invited to a new era!" This is a reference to Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune from _Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon_ , who are frequently introduced with random rose petals and whose introductory speech in season three involves the phrase "Invited by the new era."
> 
> Alphys's retort to Sans's math puns ("ok but where's your proof") was a suggestion by my beta reader, [@inverts](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inverts).
> 
> "Before she can face him and walk backwards into pun hell" is a reference to a [@dril tweet](https://twitter.com/dril/status/205052027259195393).
> 
> "Damn, it feels almost like they’re melting together..." This is a reference to the yuri trope of kisses giving the kissers a metaphorically "melty" feeling, as well as some black humor foreshadowing to the amalgamates and internal reference to how Undyne melts to death in routes where she dies. Neither Undyne nor Alphys are _actually_ going to melt into each other here, I promise.


	20. I Need Them! Give Them Back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read [this thread](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/51831085) for vital insights into the creative process behind _Strange Places_.
> 
> (disclaimer: not actually vital)

The door slams shut, and the gray room crumbles like dust around Papyrus. It happens both rapidly and in slow-motion, and his mind reels at the contradiction. He attempts to grab hold of something, a chunk of some kind of concrete or whatever the room is made of, but it crumbles. Or... it doesn’t quite crumble, so much as swim blobbily through his glove? Or, no, it kind of cracks into little polygons and then explodes into dust?? It does all of these things and none of these things and more and less all at once, and Papyrus can feel the same thing happening to his mind just by having seen it happen.

Even so, his friends are still counting on him! The human must be extremely scared now, and Flowey may not be enough to calm them! Papyrus knows he would be a little scared in their position, just like how he definitely isn’t right now! It’s extremely important that Papyrus do his very best to return to where he came from, even though he has no idea how!! He’ll never figure it out if he doesn’t try!

It’s hard to breathe in starlight and darkness, but that’s all Papyrus has to sustain him as the gray room comes apart. Through titanic effort and will, he swims--that is to say, he flails his arms and legs--in a vaguely upward direction, back towards where the door had been. It’s already vanished, but perhaps there’s still a way back. A switch or something of the kind! He even feels like he maybe makes some progress around and among the endless dissolving gray.

But then a large chunk of it wobbles directly into his face, and he feels like he’s fallen into a vat of jelly. Every movement becomes more sluggish, every thought harder to cogitate. By the time it passes through him, all he knows is that he must keep struggling upwards. The dust has largely fallen past him, though, and there is nothing ahead... only an endless nothing. It’s too much for Papyrus to comprehend. That’s okay, though. The only thing he needs to understand is that his friends need him. He won’t ever stop reaching out for them.

One arm whooshes forward at the speed of a thundersnail. One leg kicks at the speed of a sloth. One leg thrusts against the void at the speed of a glacier. One arm slices forward towards home at the speed of... something extremely slow??? Metaphors don’t matter anymore, anyhow. Even the slightest, tiniest, most miniscule progress is still progress. If Papyrus were one to let these things bog him down, why, he wouldn’t be fit for the Royal Guard at all! And that is the one thing that is absolutely, definitely not true! He’ll return home. He’ll protect his friends! He’ll become a guardsman!! All he has to do is to not give up!

He stretches a hand forward to grasp the void.

The void grasps his hand back.

Papyrus blinks rapidly. The gray room hasn’t exactly reformed around him; it’s more like everywhere he looks in every direction, the universe has turned the color of dust and monster SOULs. Except of course for the goopy-looking monster in front of him, who wears black robes and has a white cracked face and punctured hands. He watches Papyrus with a sad, resigned smile, and Papyrus stares back at him. It dawns on him that he knows this monster. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the more astonishing it is to him that he could have ever forgotten.

“...Dad?” he whispers.

“(Hello, Papyrus,)” Gaster signs back. “(It has been a long time, has it not?)”

\---

The light of Frisk’s SOUL softly illuminates the way as the earth closes in around and above them. Although Flowey doesn’t have lungs either (they think?), he’s panting by the time everything has settled down and all has gone quiet.

“I-I think I lost ‘em,” he squeaks, shaking. “What _was_ that?!”

« _I-I thought you knew?_ »

“Well it looks like I knew a lot less than I thought I did!” Flowey snaps. His trembling stem belies his apparent anger. “This shouldn’t be happening! This isn’t supposed to be _possible_! They’re not supposed to be able to interact with our world so directly!”

« _Is Papyrus going to be okay?_ »

“Who cares about Papyrus?! It’s _us_ They’re after! You and I have the power! They probably just wanted to get him out of the way!”

This is the opposite of reassuring to Frisk, who can only imagine Papyrus alone with Gaster, and... and... and what would he do to him? Frisk doesn’t have enough of a grasp of Gaster’s personality to really make a reasonable guess. They pray that Papyrus’s natural friendliness will carry him through.

“What to do? What to do?” Flowey mutters, eyes darting every which way. “We can’t stay here, that’s for sure. We’ve gotta keep moving. We can’t let Them catch us.”

« _Wh-what happens if They catch us?_ »

“I don’t know!! Something bad!” Flowey snaps as he begins to burrow through the earth and carry the jar with him. “I have no idea what They actually want! But the way They made grabby-tentacles at you, it’s obvious They--” He pauses. He blinks over at them. “Wait a sec. They don’t want _me_. They want YOU.”

This makes perfect sense to Frisk. That doesn’t comfort them.

“But, wait,” he mutters, glancing forward again. “Wait, that doesn’t... make sense. They already _had_ you. Why try to grab you over again? Did you both fall out of your body by accident? But then why’d They act so amused? Arrgh, I don’t get any of this!!”

Frisk bobs a little. « _Sorry. I don’t really get it, either._ »

Flowey frowns. “Weren’t They in your head? You should know Them, right? Heck--why aren’t I just asking you? What _do_ They want?”

« _Uh... Actually, until this timeline, I didn’t even know They existed. I barely know anything about Them._ »

Flowey’s frown deepens. Several rocks block his way, and he sets to working around them. “Ugh. Mysteries are only fun when you’ve got a way to figure them out.”

« _Asriel?_ »

“What? And I told you, use Flowey right now.”

« _Sorry,_ » Frisk says, deciding not to mention that it didn’t seem to bother him earlier when they were begging him for help. « _Do... you have a ‘third one’?_ »

“Well... sort of,” he admits. “I don’t have anyone piggybacking in my body, ‘cuz I don’t have a SOUL. But I keep in touch with--” He pauses again. “Wait. _Wait_.”

« _What?_ »

“You called Them ‘the third one,’ right?”

« _Yeah?_ »

“The third _what_ , exactly?”

Frisk hesitates.

“There’s you, and Them,” he continues. “But that’s two. What makes Them the third anything?”

Frisk has no idea how to answer this without giving Chara away; it’s Chara’s place to tell him that they really are (or were) here, and as long as they don’t know Chara’s wishes have changed, they can’t tell him about them. But Frisk has never been very good at lying, and once again they’ve slipped up. Not having a body really has made them way too talkative for their own good.

Fortunately, they don’t have to come up with a lie or deal with an awkward silence or Flowey’s renewed suspicions. Unfortunately, it’s because the earth suddenly shifts around them.

“Wha--” Flowey utters, jerking himself around.

Then the entire ground heaves, and both of them yell in surprise and fear. Streams of shadows dig a cage around them as they both move up, up, up, until both of them are pulled from the earth like a pair of stubborn potatoes. Clods of dirt fall from around them, and Flowey’s roots grasp uselessly at the air and solid darkness. Before them, the patch of nothingness comes slowly into view, as well as Their scarlet grin.

“No no no no no,” Flowey babbles with a terror borne of helplessness. “No, I don’t wanna die! Someone get me out of here! Mom! Dad! Chara!! Help me!!”

« _Let me out!_ » Frisk urges.

“Wh-what?! But you’ll--”

« _I know! But I can’t protect you from in here!_ »

“--huh? Protect _me_?”

« _I don’t know if I’m strong enough as just a SOUL, but if you’re right... I don’t want Them to hurt you! Please! Hurry!_ »

He hesitates. Then he mashes buttons with his roots until the top of the jar _clicks_ and partially unscrews. He whirls the lid the rest of the way, then knocks it off. It falls out from between the shadow-bars and clatters on the ground, and Frisk whooshes out from inside the protective space.

Already they can feel their mind fuzzing at the edges, but that doesn’t matter right now. Their SOUL is everything they are as an individual, as a person: the culmination of their being. They know from their experience fighting Omega Flowey that a human SOUL without a body is still powerful and capable of the extraordinary. And right now, they’re filled with the determination to save their friend.

\---

“DAD!” Papyrus shouts, overjoyed. He leaps forward to fling his arms around Gaster, but the older skeleton is gone in an instant, and Papyrus stumbles forward. The gray void around him spins, or maybe he’s the one spinning, and when he gets himself upright again somehow, Gaster is once again in front of him, if a little further back than before.

“(I’m sorry for that,)” he signs. “(It is in your own best interests not to touch me again.)”

“So... I can’t hug you?” Papyrus asks, disappointed.

Gaster shakes his head. Some things don’t need to be signed, either with hands or mystic airborne symbols.

Papyrus hangs his head. Then he brightens. “That’s all right!! It’s enough for me to just see you again! I can’t believe I forgot about you until now, Dad!” He clasps his cheekbones, eye sockets sparkling with excitement. “Omigosh! We have so much to catch up on! I’ve been working hard to enter the Royal Guard, and I made friends with a fish and a human and a flower, and Sans... well, Sans hasn’t been so great, but he’ll be _so happy_ to see you again!

“Oh!! And I’ve been mastering the fine art of spaghetti artisanship!” He rests a hand on his chest and grins his absolute most self-confident grin, which is saying a lot because they’re all brimming with self-confidence. Despite the lack of literally anything in the void, his scarf-cape flaps dashingly. “Just wait until I make you a plate, Dad! Your tongue will tingle with joy after experiencing one of my culinary masterpieces!”

“(That is very... optimistic of you, Papyrus.)”

“There’s no sense in being gloomy about things!” he declares. His wide grin droops a little. “Although... I do feel bad that I forgot. That must’ve really hurt your feelings.”

“(It is not your fault, my son. My existence was erased, and almost all memory of me was lost. It is only now that your own existence has been compromised that your mind can alter itself to allow recollection of me once more.)”

“.........That sounds bad.”

“(That is a word for it, yes. You were nearly erased entirely, but thanks to your strong will to return, I was able to reach out and pull you in here with me instead. I fear, in time, you may find it a poor alternative.)”

“So what you’re basically saying is... you saved my life??” Papyrus’s smile softens with affectionate warmth. “Aw, Dad... You’re the best! Just like me!! Nyeh heh heh!”

Gaster’s smile turns rueful. “(In the meantime, I can attempt to answer any questions you have. I’m sure you must have plenty.)”

“Hmmm...” He taps his chin, thinking. That’s true, he does have a lot, but where to begin? Much as he’d like to know how and why Gaster vanished from time-space in the first place, recent events seem like a better start. “Oh!! After the... shadow-person-thingie showed up... I felt like I kept seeing symbols! That was you, wasn’t it??”

He nods. “(I was attempting to warn you. I am afraid it was... insufficient. I suppose I should be grateful that I was able to reach you enough to give you cause to fear the entity your human friend referred to as ‘the third one.’)”

“Oh!!! That reminds me?” Papyrus’s smile turns nervous. “Why did you, um... split my friend into pieces??”

“(It was not my intent. I had tried to escape from them, but found the way blocked. The longer they were in my presence after having touched me, the greater the danger they were in. That, I fear, was the entity’s plan.)”

“So... you split them up... but you didn’t mean to??”

“(That is correct.)”

“Wowie! Then this is just a big misunderstanding!” That makes him feel _so_ much better! “Can you do what you did before, but in reverse??”

“(I am afraid I cannot.)”

That makes him feel... actually not very better at all. “Why not?!?”

“(It is beyond my capability. If you were to return the human’s SOUL to their body, they should be able to merge on their own... However, the entity seems to have her own plans.)”

“‘Her’?”

“(Her, yes. A fact she has allowed me to know.)”

“Oh, okay. What’s up with that weirdo hole-person, anyway?? My friend Flowey said she’s from another world!”

“(The being you know as Flowey is otherwise correct. The entity is originally a human from another world. That form you saw is merely her avatar. Previously, she shared control of the human’s body with them and another, and through that control interacted with this world. To this entity, our world is like a playground, and she approaches it as you might a puzzle or game. For this reason, allow me to refer to her henceforth as the Player.)”

“Wowie! She can’t be all bad if this Player woman likes puzzles!” Papyrus enthuses. “Why did you try to warn me about her??”

Gaster chuckles darkly and spreads his arms. They seem to reach far, far longer and wider than they should. “(One of the dubious advantages of my current state is that I am able to see a great number of... possibilities. Outcomes of decisions... alternate timelines... other versions of reality. The Player, through her guidance of your friend, is extremely influential; her decisions can lead to either the destruction or salvation of this world. However, she cannot--should not--exist outside of her host, without which she should be powerless. I suspect she manipulated her host into seeking me, leading to the split of their body and psyches, in order to gain the ability to act outside the boundaries that were originally placed upon her.)”

“Um... so that means...”

“(As she is now, she can do whatever she pleases, however she pleases.)”

Papyrus blinks rapidly. All of this is rather... _big_ for him. “Why wasn’t what she was doing before good enough?? The human has so many friends! Including me!! Nyeh heh heh!” He beams at Gaster, who smiles. “What could be even better than this?”

“(I cannot peer into the hearts of humans or monsters, so this is only my theory, but I believe that the entity is... dissatisfied with the pre-established results that this world has to offer her.)” He lowers his arms. “(I mentioned before that there are three entities in the human’s body: the Player, the human themselves, and another.)”

Papyrus nods. This makes perfect sense. The human themselves called the Player the ‘third one’! Obviously that must mean there’s a second person in there somewhere.

“(This other is also a human child, but they died long ago. What exists in your friend now is their consciousness, which has connected to your friend’s SOUL. They came to live again in this way because their name was called. That name... is Chara.)”

“Gasp!!” Papyrus pauses, then squints. “Never heard of them.”

Gaster grimaces. “(That is beside the point. Chara is... the key to the Player’s access to this world, so far as I am able to observe. It is via Chara that the Player is able to enact her will upon this world, for good or for ill, as much and as many times as she pleases, so long as she decides to reset the timeline.)”

“Wait, what?? Resetting timelines what???”

“(Oh, dear. I forgot to mention that, didn’t I. This _is_ rather complicated, isn’t it.)”

Papyrus scratches his head. “Can you just give me the gist?”

“(The gist...? Hm. The gist.)” Gaster ponders this for some time. “(Very well. The gist is that the Player is in control of a specific portion of time, and can reset back to the beginning of it at will. She can do this because she is, while here, a being of pure determination. So long as she desires it, time can continue, pause, skip, and restart. None can defy her will--except for Chara. Chara alone, if the Player has guided them to gain the highest possible amount of LOVE, can override her will and bring about the end of everything. The Player can still recreate the world by resetting the timeline, but at this point, Chara is strong enough to taint every timeline she toys with thereafter. I hypothesize that the Player is aware of this somehow, and that her current actions are an effort to wrest that last piece of control away for herself.)”

“That’s not very gist-y,” Papyrus complains.

“(My apologies. I have never been good at succinct explanations.)”

“That’s okay! I think I understand. So... the Player is resetting time, because she wants to have 100% control instead of 99% control?”

“(That is what I believe.)”

“That’s not very nice!!” Papyrus declares, brow ridges furrowing. “Why would she need to do that anyway?? Why hurt people when she can befriend them instead??”

“(I am afraid that is beyond me. From what I have been able to observe, the Player understands both good and evil, right and wrong... she simply believes it does not apply to her while she is here.)”

“That’s not very nice at all!! Clearly someone needs to guide _her_ so she can guide the humans properly!” Papyrus rests a hand on his chest. “Dad! I appreciate that you were trying to protect my friends and me! But I, the great Papyrus, am clearly the skeleton for the job! I will set this Player back on the straight and narrow, and show her how cool a friend she can truly be!! Nyeh heh heh heh!”

If there is anyone who can verbalize an ellipse, it’s Gaster. Which is funny to say, because his verbalizations only serve to emphasize his signs.

“What’s that dot-dot-dot for!!” Papyrus protests all the same.

“(My son, I do not think you truly appreciate how little the Player cares about our will.)”

“That’s your opinion! In my opinion, you never know for sure until you try! And even after you try! Sometimes it takes a lot of trying before it works!!”

Gaster shuts his eyes and smiles, strained. “(Ah. I believe I have isolated the cause of our communication gap. It seems you won’t understand until you experience it firsthand.)” He opens his eyes. “(Very well. I will show you. But, please... try not to be too disappointed, Papyrus.)”

“I’m not going to be disappointed, because I’m going to succeed!” he insists, but the world is already melting around them. It’d be cause for alarm if Gaster hadn’t made it clear that this is something he’s doing, and anyway, when the world _stops_ melting, they’re back in the shadowy corridor.

Papyrus perks up. “Wowie!! We’re back! That was easy!”

Gaster says nothing. Clearly he’s being modest! Really, there’s no need for that, since being Papyrus’s family means automatic greatness. Still, if they’re back here, that must mean his friends are nearby, and he definitely wants to let them know he’s all right and--

His train of thought derails when he turns around.

\---

Everything’s going wrong. _None_ of this is what Flowey had planned or even expected, and it’s rapidly passed from “fascinating” to “terrifying.” Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he still had control over the timeline, but he doesn’t! He has no idea _who_ does at this point, with the human split into pieces.

One of those pieces floats defiantly between him and the otherworlder, the so-called “third one.” It glows with a radiant red light that somehow warms him up from the inside. It’s a heady feeling, and he pulses his vines against the constraints of the shadow-cage. The bars shudder a little and start to give, bit by bit, but even that tiny progress fills Flowey with a strange feeling he can’t quite name--the feeling that he can do this if he just keeps trying his hardest. It’s not quite determination, though it’s something similar. This isn’t just the will to keep living. This is... inspiration?

And the source is obvious. The human once asked him if they made him feel things too, like Chara does. He’d rejected that notion at the time (and anyway, Chara couldn’t really make them feel anything anymore; he just likes to think that they would, if they were still here), but it’s getting harder to deny, and he hates that.

But he’s still going to use it.

The crescent smile of the anti-figure dims and then points downwards. The SOUL flares even brighter, and They rear back. An anguished, angry noise fills the air, and black flakes peel off the bars of the shadow-cage.

“Hah! Take that!” Flowey taunts, grinning triumphantly. His efforts are coming along, too--just a little more and he’ll be able to drop right out. What he’ll do after _that_ , he doesn’t know, but he knows he’s not going anywhere without the human’s SOUL.

Except the bars have creaked open enough for it to float out, and it does exactly that with a decisive curve, bringing its radiance closer to their captor and making it scream that much louder.

“Hey!! Be careful!” he yells at the SOUL. “Blow this and you’re done for!”

It doesn’t respond verbally, but... there’s this weird kind of... reassurance? He _feels_ it, despite not having a SOUL of his own. Maybe it’s because he’s been keeping this one close...? His flower form was always meant to be a SOUL container itself, both of human and monster SOULs, and this one... this one _wants_ to be close to him, it abruptly occurs to him. And what it... what _they’re_ conveying now, deep inside him... it’s like... “it’ll be all right.”

He hasn’t felt that way in a long, long time. It reminds him how, when all of this started, all he wanted was to figure out a way to feel love again.

All on their own, they were able to beat him when he had the power of six human SOULs. No matter how many times he killed them, they kept trying and calling out. Now, without a body, they’re putting everything they are on the line to fight for _him_. He called out for his mother, his father, for the most important person in his life, and nobody came--except for _them_. No, they were with him all along. It shouldn’t affect him... but somehow, it is.

It scares the hell out of him, but he’ll take this kind of fear over the alternative. Nothing’s scared him like that otherworlder has since... since the human grabbed for him last timeline.

No, no, now’s not the time to think about that. The more he thinks about it, the more confused he gets. He’ll have time to grill the human later; right _now_ , he needs to wrest open this cage and get the hell out of here with the hu--that is, the SOUL. It’s just a little more; the bars are giving way bit by bit, and there’s almost space enough for him to slip out. He leans hard in that directly, glancing up frequently at the SOUL as it burns away at the patch in reality. For a moment there, Flowey thinks they really will get away.

Then the otherworlder whirls an arm-nub down from above and smacks the SOUL hard. It slams against the ground hard, jitters, and falls still. At the same time, the shadow-bars slice right back to the position they were at and cut off his roots at the same time. Flowey screams, a high-pitched thing that sounds at first like it couldn’t possibly have come from his own throat, and crumples to the bottom of the cage.

It’s fine. It’s FINE. He’s dealt with worse pain than this before. He forces himself upright, gritting his teeth, to concentrate his hate into a glare at the otherworlder. They leer at him, seeming no worse for the wear for its confrontation against the SOUL. In fact, They look like...

They look EXACTLY like They did before anyone did anything.

It’s like They _loaded a state save_.

The otherworlder shakes as if laughing, then draws Their nub upwards. The SOUL, as if drawn into a tractor beam, rises up from where they landed. They quiver, jerking back occasionally as if trying to tear themselves free, but the motions are weak and growing weaker. The sight fills Flowey with dread, and his attention is so rooted on them that he almost doesn’t notice the otherworlder glancing past him and to the right at a spot near the ground. He jerks his head in that direction, but there’s nothing there, so he turns back to what’s important.

“Hey! HEY! Let them go! I told you, they’re MINE! You can’t have them!” he yells.

The otherworlder leers at him, crescent mouth slitting wider than ever. It slits so wide that it parts, opening up a void within the void. The SOUL trembles as the otherworlder pulls it overhead, and Flowey understands in an instant what They’re trying to do.

“Stop it! I said STOP! Get your nubs off them! You... you can’t do this!!” Flowey shrieks, rattling his cage uselessly. The SOUL jar is giving him barely any space. He muscles it to one side, ignoring the drip of sap from his wounds, and throws his face against the bars. “I need them! Give them back! Give them BACK!”

The SOUL vibrates, as if they’re trying to return to him. He reaches out for them--

No. He doesn’t. That was just a phantom sensation. He has no arms with which to reach out to anyone anymore.

He hates how he wails at his own powerlessness, but not nearly as much as he hates the otherworlder. There’s nothing he can do as They tilt Their head back and dangle the human’s SOUL over Their unfathomable maw.

\---

Reality must phase back in in layers, or maybe it’s just because the Player’s such a weirdo, because her massive hole-in-reality presence definitely wasn’t there a second ago. Papyrus definitely would’ve seen Flowey bleeding sap from inside that little cage hanging in midair, too, and he _definitely_ would have spotted the flicker of the human’s SOUL as the Player begins to levitate them up from the ground.

“PLAYER! Please stop this at once!!” Papyrus demands, striding forward even though every instinct is telling him he should run away very fast right now. “Those are my friends you are picking on, and if you don’t stop! I! Will! Ask you again nicely to please stop!!”

The Player peers down at him. So does Flowey. Papyrus gives him a hearty wave and an encouraging smile, as he looks _quite_ upset, but Flowey turns back to the Player and starts yelling at her to give the human back. Papyrus winces; he doesn’t blame his plant friend for being unhappy, but that’s not a very good attitude to have. On the other hand, the Player immediately gapes her mouth wide open, which is really rather unsettling and not very friendly at all??

Flowey shouts again as the Player starts to bring the human over her mouth, and this time, Papyrus runs up toward her. “Please! Give them back! They’re our precious friend!” he insists, chiming in with Flowey this time. “I’m sure you must have your reasons for doing all you’ve done, but if you kill the human, you won’t be able to hang out with any of your friends anymore!” He waves his arms wildly to try to get the Player’s attention; she seems to be ignoring him now. “I’ll help guide you to being a cooler, more supportive friend as well! So please, just put them down gently, and we can talk this over!”

Flowey’s anguished screaming is really! Quite! Distressing!! Papyrus wants to start screaming too, but he has to keep it together for his friends’s sakes. “Please! Please, just listen to me!!” he shouts, reaching out for the SOUL.

For a second, the Player pauses, red eye locked in on him. Papyrus begins to smile in relief; then her eye flashes, and he goes flying back from an unseen impact and lands in a heap at Gaster’s feet. Papyrus scrabbles upright in time to see the Player begin to close her maw around the human’s SOUL to the sound of Flowey’s desperate wails.

Then the Player’s outline turns azure, and she has a split-second to look nonplussed about this development before she’s slammed into the corridor wall.

The human’s red SOUL flutters away from her grasp, well away from her mouth, towards Flowey in his cage. Papyrus jerks his head between them as the Player then slams into the ceiling, the floor, the ceiling again, the opposite wall, the floor again, the ceiling again, the wall, and then the floor one last time, where a row of bones shear out from the earth and rip into the Player’s dark form. A series of massive, beast-like skulls appear from nowhere, two at opposite corners, then two above and to the right, then two to the upper left and lower right, then one above. Each of them opens up its jaws of steak knife teeth and emits a massive blast of magic that sears repeatedly into the Player, blazing away more of her absolute darkness until there’s only a shred of her left.

The bars of the cage that hold Flowey and the SOUL jar burn away too during this series of attacks, and they and the human’s SOUL fall together to the ground. Papyrus rushes over to their side to make sure they’re okay, being a bit too far to catch them. The jar is cracked and missing its lid, the human is trembling, and Flowey is still oozing sap from his roots, but (thank god!) they’re all still in one piece, except for Flowey, who is technically in three pieces. Papyrus looks around quickly for the jar’s lid, but something else arrests his attention first.

He’d know those bones anywhere, but there’d been so _many_ skulls, he hadn’t been completely sure at first. Maybe it had been Gaster, who ghosts up next to him. But no. Just beyond the shadows of the opposite end of the corridor, right up to the shredded form of the Player, saunters out his brother.

“Hey,” says Sans, as nonchalant as ever. “Picking on kids _again_? Buddy. Pal.” His left eye blazes blue as he stares down at the Player. “You need to get a new hobby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "His left eye blazes blue as he stares down at the Player." This is a nod to the fighting game series _BlazBlue_.


	21. It Was You?

The secret lab is dark. Alphys reaches out for a light switch, but when she flips it, the lights sputter and flicker and go out all the way down the hall. There must’ve been a power surge or something. God, good thing the three of them came down when they did; just imagine if that happened while they were in the elevator.

“C’mon,” she murmurs to Undyne and the human. “I’ll have to fix the power, but that’s not too hard. I’ll explain along the way.”

“Weird place,” Undyne remarks, looking around. “So is this, like, a second lab or something?”

“Or something,” Alphys agrees weakly. God, she’d love to run away... but no. She has to have the strength to tell the truth, or... or she’ll have to accept that she never really deserved Undyne in the first place. The memory of all their kisses gives her strength, and she even manages to stand up a little straighter. “This way.”

The human’s been quiet ever since they came down here. They stay quiet as Alphys starts to explain about how King Asgore had given her free reign on her research after appointing her Royal Scientist, and how she’d tried to think of a way to use monster SOULs instead of relying on human SOULs to break the barrier, which led to her research on human SOULs, determination, and DT extraction and injections, which took the form of a thick red liquid. The back-up power lights up the log screens, so she lets them read the entries as they come up, too.

“Hey, didn’t you have like a beaker full of some kinda red goo on your work table ages ago? You know, the vitamin drink?” Undyne wonders. “Remember I thought it was, like, a more _intense_ version of the pink goo, and I drank it all in one go?”

Alphys cringes. She’d freaked out hard at the time. After meeting Undyne at the dump and being inspired by her... her-ness, she’d thought maybe she should take another look at her DT research, see if she couldn’t try to reverse-engineer a way to separate the monsters who’d melted together. Stupid, careless Alphys had left a DT sample on her desk when Undyne dropped by unannounced, and she’d heard Undyne say “Hey, thanks for the drink!” before turning around and seeing her gulp it all down.

She’d screamed in horror and run immediate tests on her, and thank god, it seemed like there was no effect. Eventually, she’d concluded that it just hadn’t been enough--it’d taken loads of injections before the other monsters had even opened their eyes--or else that it just wasn’t effective on healthy monsters. That, though, was also the final, conclusive end of her attempt to do any more research. She’d told Undyne it was an experimental vitamin mix and she hadn’t worked out the negative side-effects yet and that’s why she’d panicked, and thank god again, Undyne had believed her. Thank god even more that Undyne hadn’t melted. If anything had happened to her, she would’ve...

“Y-yeah,” she squeaks. “That’s... that’s one of the things I lied to you about. Actually, that was DT. I n-never meant for anyone to drink it... I-it’s kind of _like_ a vitamin, but... well, theoretically, it should’ve made your SOUL stronger. As strong as a human’s, in fact.”

“Oh.” Undyne considers this as they approach the main hall, where the color door is locked. “Well, nothing bad happened, right? No harm, no foul!”

“Determination is what lets human SOULs persist after death, right?” says the human. Alphys turns to them in surprise, but nods. “Then wouldn’t you only see results if Undyne died?”

She opens her mouth, shuts it. “Th-that’s a really logical conclusion,” she admits. “T-to be honest, I didn’t want to think about it at all after that. I was just glad that n-nothing bad happened to her.”

“Hey, whatever!” Undyne says cheerfully, smacking her on the back. “Like I said, no harm, no foul! I told you back then too, I shouldn’t have just drunk it without asking!” She sobers. “It’s a shame it didn’t work, though. If we monsters could just punch through that stupid barrier with the power of our OWN SOULs... that’d REALLY show those stupid humans! Uh, no offense, kiddo.”

“None taken.”

“N-no, I, um... I haven’t told you the rest yet,” Alphys breathes. She goes on to explain that monster bodies, which have much less physical matter than human bodies, just aren’t equipped to handle high levels of determination... that when injected with it, they eventually start to melt. She busies herself with the door while she speaks, but it’s no good; the controls just won’t work without power. She’s going to have to get the keycards and do a manual override.

“ _Melt_?” the human echoes.

“Wait, seriously?!” Undyne shouts.

Alphys nods. “Th-thank god it didn’t happen to you, but, um... everyone else...” She looks away as she shuffles towards the first keycard room. “...Undyne, y-you remember back when I asked for all those monsters who’d fallen down...?”

“Wait. Alphys. Are you trying to say...?”

She smiles self-deprecatingly. “They’re all... still here.” She picks up the keycard and turns towards her companion. “...You’ll see them soon.”

Undyne and the human exchange a glance.

“But if a monster who already had a determined personality--say, like Undyne, who NEVER gives up--drank DT extract,” the human says slowly, “she’d be able to handle a higher concentration of the stuff, wouldn’t she? Enough to come back to life? Enough to be able to take out even a human with intent to kill?”

“W-well, theoretically, yes,” Alphys utters, startled. “I-I mean, I never thought about murdering humans--my research was for SOULs that could persist after death. B-but, um, yes. Maybe. There’s no way to prove it, n-not without threatening her life, and I couldn’t...”

“Hey, don’t worry! Like anybody could take _me_ out!” she reassures her, smiling wide. “Except the human, I guess. But it’s not like they _killed_ me.”

The human purses their lips and glances away.

“But, uh...” Undyne continues, smile fading. “About those other monsters...”

Alphys forces a weak smile. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

\---

This place is freaking _weird_ , not to mention super-creepy. Not that Undyne’s scared, but there’s something in the air that rubs her scales the wrong way. She keeps that to herself. Undyne’s generally not one to silence her own opinions, but she doesn’t want to hurt Alphys. At the very least, she ought to hear her out to the end before saying anything.

Still, when Alphys directs her to turn on the faucets and one of them starts gushing monster goo instead of water, she hollers and hurls a magic spear at it. It breaks apart into several monsters, all gibbering away in some garbled speak she can’t understand. When she attacks, they get even _stronger_?? Alphys shouts at her to stop, but this freak isn’t exactly friendly, either! It’s not until the human uses their phone that they can all actually communicate. Good thing, too; Undyne doesn’t say so, but she’s not sure she could’ve actually beaten something that doesn’t die when you kill it.

After Alphys talks down the weirdo monster clusters (Memoryheads, she calls them) and they leave, Undyne finds a key card in the sink. She turns the faucets off again, then walks into the next room with the others, where Alphys sets the red keycard into the slot on the wall.

“Those were monsters who melted together, weren’t they?” the human murmurs, not looking at either of them, on the way out. “Because you injected them with DT.”

“Right,” Alphys admits quietly. “They’re like that because... because of what I did to them.”

“That’s...” Undyne pauses. _That’s pretty screwed up,_ is her honest opinion, but she’s not gonna just _say_ that. “Is there any way you can undo it? You’re smart, right?”

“If she could undo what she’d done, she’d have done that by now,” the human comments, watching Alphys. “Right?”

She nods meekly. “All of this was completely experimental. Though at least they’re managing okay... Their minds and bodies have melted together, but they’re healthy, you know? I mean, for as much as abominations of science can be... heh... heheh...”

Undyne doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing.

“For the record, Asgore doesn’t know what I did,” she adds. “He helped me gather monsters for the experiment, but... I haven’t... told him... about all this.”

They eventually reach and pass through a room full of beds. A couple of them are undone. Alphys heads over to one, then points Undyne towards an empty dog food bowl. The human walks up to the northeast corner, between a pair of doors, and peeks through both of them in turn.

“Can those guys die _at all_ now?” Undyne wonders as she picks up the bowl.

“I don’t know... I haven’t tried anything like that. I’ve been secretly taking care of them all down here.” Alphys nods towards the dog bowl, then takes a keycard from under one of the bed’s sheets. “It’s a bit past when I’m supposed to feed them, so they get pretty cranky. They’re harmless, really. They don’t want to hurt anyone. They’re just...” She trails off.

“So we just gotta feed ‘em and that’s that?”

“Is... is it really just ‘that’s that’ to you?”

“Huh?” Undyne stares at Alphys. “Well, you didn’t _kill_ anybody, did you?”

“But... but...”

“Listen.” Undyne walks over to Alphys. “What’s going on down here is freaky as heck. I won’t lie about that. But you didn’t _mean_ for any of this to happen.”

“It doesn’t really matter if I meant for this to happen or not, does it?” Alphys murmurs, averting her eyes. From their corner, the human turns to watch her. “I still... everyone I tried to help... I hurt instead. And then I lied about it, because I was too ashamed and scared to admit what I’d done.” She hangs her head. “I’m awful.”

“NGAAAAHHH! What’s with this damn pity party!?” Undyne roars. She hefts Alphys up with both arms. “LISTEN! You think I’d be here if you really were awful?! I KNOW you, Alphys. Even if you’ve been hiding and lying about a lot of stuff, there’s one thing you can’t mask: your PASSION!! You care about what you do!! And that includes your mistakes!! You care about these poor monsters, and that’s why you’re working your tail off to _take_ care of ‘em!”

“B-but I _feel_ awful...”

“So what?! Just because you FEEL awful doesn’t mean you ARE awful!”

“U-Undyne...”

“So hey...” Her eyes soften, and she draws Alphys into a hug, one arm under her tail to support her. “Don’t beat yourself up so hard, okay? We’re here with you. _I’m_ here. We’ll help you figure all this out. You don’t have to suffer alone anymore.”

Alphys’s eyes water, and she flings her arms around Undyne’s neck with a little sob. Undyne smiles and holds her back a little tighter.

“All right! So let’s feed your buddies, read the rest of those logs, and you’ll explain whatever we don’t understand, and then...!” Undyne declares, setting her girlfriend down. “...We can figure the rest out later!!”

“Y-yeah.” Alphys smiles up at her, eyes crinkling. “If I have you with me... I think I can have the courage to tell everyone the truth. Thank you.” She pauses, then looks over at the human. “And thank you, too. If it hadn’t been for you... this wouldn’t be happening now.”

“What? No,” they murmur, shuffling backwards and folding their arms behind their back. “I didn’t do anything...”

“Hey!! Who’s the punk who kept yelling at us to smooch, huh!?” Undyne demands, shaking a fist at them as she grins. “You better admit you helped out or I’ll have to hug the pity party outta you too!!!”

They smile at that, cheeks reddening. “You really think I helped?”

“DUH!!! What d’you think I’ve been saying?!” She scoops up Alphys under one arm, charges at the human, scoops them up in her other arm, then squeezes the three of them together. “NOW C’MON! GROUP HUG TIME FOR ME, MY GIRLFRIEND AND MY BESTIE!! NGAAAAAHHH!!!”

Alphys squawks and the human yelps, but then the human starts to laugh and Alphys follows suit. Both of them slip their arms up and around her and each other’s shoulders--Undyne kneels to let the both of these shorties touch the ground--and the three of them grin together as they hug in a circle.

“Feeling better?” Undyne asks, looking from Alphys to the human.

“Yeah. A lot better, actually,” Alphys says, smiling in that adorable way she does where her entire face crinkles up. Undyne loves that smile.

“Yeah... Me too,” says the human. “You really are the coolest, Undyne.”

“Heck yeah I am!” Undyne crows. OH MAN, the human TOTALLY likes her best! She’s gonna totally brag about this to...

To...

Whose face was she gonna rub this into again?

“There’s three key cards left, and they each need to be put in the correct colored slot,” Alphys says. “That will unlock the door to the power room, and once I fix the power and finish showing you guys everything, we can head back upstairs with everyone. One’s right in this room, and there’s a slot in the room at the end of that hall.” She points to one of the doors. “The other two keys and slots are that way.” She points to the other door. “We’ll have to do some backtracking, though.”

“Should we split up?” the human suggests. “It might make this go faster.”

“Are you sure? These guys... well, they aren’t dangerous, but they don’t know you two,” Alphys says, blinking.

“Pssh, that’s no big deal! I’ll just throw dog food at ‘em!” Undyne declares. Whatever; whoever it was, it couldn’t have been that important. “Why don’t you take the human with you? If these guys know you, they’ll be safer with you than with me.”

It’s super-gratifying when the human looks disappointed at that. Actually, Alphys looks disappointed too. Not that Undyne cares about popularity, but it sure does feel nice to be liked so much.

“Hey, don’t gimme those looks!” she adds, jabbing a finger at both of them. “Alphys, I’m trusting you with my bestie! And human, I’m trusting you with my girlfriend! Make sure you protect each other, got it?!”

They glance at each other, smile, and nod to her. At Alphys’s direction, they first pick up the yellow keycard from under the sheets of one of the beds and the green keycard from a tub in a room to the north (“don’t mind them, they just like to wave,” Alphys reassures the other two). From there, they part ways, Undyne to the west with the yellow card, Alphys and the human to the southeast with the green.

\---

Alphys still doesn’t know what she thinks or how she feels about the human who, by now, she’s 98% sure isn’t the same human she’s been watching travel through the ruins despite having the same body. That being said, she’s pretty sure she doesn’t dislike them or anything. No, actually, she thinks she likes them? It’s hard to say since she barely knows them at all, but they ask thoughtful questions, they seem to like _Mew Mew_ so far, and they ship her with Undyne hardcore. All laudable traits! It’s because of that that she decided to tell the truth to both of them. And when Undyne told them they’d helped, they seemed genuinely happy. But... she doesn’t know. She’d really like to ask them who they are, but she doesn’t know how to breach the subject. Maybe, after she’s finished telling the truth about herself, she can figure that out.

When they walk together through the mirrored hallway, the human stares at the potted flowers, slows and stops. Alphys stops several steps ahead of them, in the middle of a quiet explanation of her DT experiments and how she discovered that a human’s determination is potent enough to fuel them for ages even on the brink of death. She blinks back at them.

“Is something the matter?” she wonders.

Slowly, they pick up one of the potted flowers. So does their reflection in the mirror behind them. “These flowers look familiar,” they remark in an oddly neutral tone of voice.

“Um... Y-yes? You’ve probably seen them before,” Alphys replies. She wonders why she feels so nervous all of a sudden. It’s probably just her anxiety flaring up again, but... “Um. In... in Asgore’s garden? But, um... they’re also... originally from the surface.”

The human says nothing. Their hair hangs over their face, obscuring their expression, but they pull the potted plant in a little closer as if to whisper a secret to it. “Why do you have so many of them here?”

“Oh, well,” Alphys starts, and wonders if she should really go into this. It’s not really relevant, even if it’s part of the DT experiments, and... oh, who is she kidding? She’s just scared. And why? They’re just flowers. She takes a deep breath. She’s committed herself to telling the truth. She has to say.

“I-it’s all in these logs,” she continues, gesturing at the screens on the wall. “I thought, to use the SOULs, we’d need a vessel, right? And I thought--what if you injected DT into something that doesn’t have a SOUL? S-so, um... I thought... well, Asgore likes flowers, and... and, well, these became the part of the experiment,” she concludes valiantly, or what passes for valiantly when it comes to her. She gestures at the long table, filled with golden flowers. “They’re the, the, um, control cases. They don’t d-do anything? They’re just, um, normal flowers.”

The human rubs their thumb along the rim of the pot as she speaks. When she finishes, they turn toward her, hugging the pot to their chest. “Dr. Alphys. Is there something you’re not telling me...?”

Her throat goes dry, and she crosses her feet and hands, and her eyes dart away. Something about the way the human asked that... makes her really uncomfortable, and her nerves are screaming at her to run away, just _run_ , the amalgamates will block the way if you really need them to--but no. She made the decision to tell the truth. She _has_ to see it through. Undyne believes in her. She can’t let that go to waste.

So she clutches her face and makes herself look up and forces a smile that threatens to crack her face in half. “Y-yeah,” she rasps. “ _These_ flowers are normal, b-but... there was one. The f-first one, from the surface, that bloomed in Asgore’s g-garden... a-after...” She lowers her eyes. “I-I didn’t tell him I picked it to make into the vessel. I-I wanted it to be a surprise. B-but then...”

The human is staring down at the flowerpot in their arms. Their hair is still masking their expression. Their fingers are pale and tense.

“...the flower disappeared,” she concludes.

_BAM_. Alphys flinches as the human slams a fist against the mirror next to them. Their other arm clutches the flowerpot, and they glare up at her with eyes full of murderous intent.

“It was you?” they rasp. “YOU did this to Asriel...?”

“H-huh?” Alphys squeaks.

They don’t answer for a long moment. When it passes, they breathe out a long sigh and carefully let their hand slide away from the mirror.

“Sorry. Never mind,” they murmur, no longer meeting her eyes. “I almost overreacted about something.”

Alphys doesn’t trust herself to speak. Claws clack together nervously on her hands and feet. At length, the human presses their hand to their miserably frowning face. Then they step over to the table and gently set the flowerpot back in place.

“Sorry,” they repeat. “I’m really sorry about that.” They turn back to her and hug their arms to their chest. “Let’s get going, okay?”

“...O-okay,” Alphys agrees. When they walk up next to her, they give her plenty of space, and she’s glad for it.

The Reaper Bird is ahead. Alphys feeds them and pats their head and tells them she’s sorry, same as every feeding. They warble sorrowfully and turn their astigmatic head towards the human, who stares back at them, but the Reaper Bird leaves them alone in favor of dinner.

While they’re mid-feeding, the human creeps up next to her to stare at them up close. The look on their face is indescribable. Alphys wonders if they can pick out the individual monsters that make up the Reaper Bird, or if they’ve melted together too much for identification. But the human says nothing, and together they walk to the room at the end of the hall. It turns out that Alphys misremembered which color the slot was, though--it’s blue, rather than green--and they have to backtrack. The Reaper Bird is gone by the time they leave.

Alphys clears her throat noisily as they head back. It sounds as awkward as it feels. “C-can I ask you something?”

The human makes a small sound. She’s not sure if it means yes or no, but it at least shows they’re listening. She thinks.

“Um... have you... have you ever done something that... that, um, you thought was the right thing at the time... b-but ended up hurting people instead?”

The human looks away from her to the row of potted flowers. “Sometimes I think the only thing I’m capable of, right _or_ wrong, is hurting people.”

Awwwkwaaarrrd. That 98% has just risen to 100%. She wonders if the human or whoever or whatever they are (though she has a solid hunch on that now) meant for her to catch on. She looks down, drums her claws on her chest, and shakily offers, “Y-you... didn’t hurt me.”

It takes her a few steps to realize they’ve stopped. She stops too and turns around to see them staring at her. Another few seconds pass before it occurs to her that she should maybe explain herself.

“I-I mean, y-you wanted to, didn’t you? Just... just a minute ago. B-but you didn’t.”

Their eyes widen. Then they jerk their head away. “...You’re surprisingly brave.”

“H-huh? _Me_?”

“You really thought I wanted to hurt you, but you didn’t run away. You just kept on like normal. You could’ve sicced the Reaper Bird on me, or sent me ahead and run away to get Undyne, but you didn’t. You... trusted me.”

Alphys glances to one side. “Was I... n-not supposed to?”

“No, that’s not what I--” They cut themselves off, then look over at their reflection. Fingertips brush each other, real and image, and they lean their forehead on the mirror. “...Sorry. I’ve been saying a lot of weird stuff, haven’t I. I-I think I’m just kind of... freaked out.”

“I-it’s okay,” Alphys says, although she understands immediately that they’re feeding her an excuse to make her think, or at least allow her to pretend, they’re the human she knows. “But, um... if you’ve got anything you want to talk about... I-I mean! I don’t want this to be a one-way friendship, y-you know?” She pauses at her own choice of words; then she plunges on: “You’re trying your hardest to support me, so... if you’re hurting... I can at least lend an ear. Okay?”

They smile. There’s something profoundly sad about it. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you.” They shut their eyes; then they stand up straight, shoulders square, and look her in the eye. “But I’m fine. I’m here to help _you_ out.”

She still doesn’t really understand why they’re here or what they want, but... that convinces her. This must be why Sans thought it was okay to bring them to her in the first place. “Thanks. Um... D-don’t worry about before. I-I was a little scared, but... but that’s what happens when you tell the truth! You run the risk of people hating you... and... if you hated me enough for what I’ve done to want to kill me...” She lowers her eyes. “I’d understand.”

“...You really are brave.”

“N-no, not at all! I mean... if you and Undyne hadn’t come with me, I might’ve... done something cowardly,” she admits, shuffling her feet. “But I’m glad you came to back me up. That means a lot to me, no matter how angry you got.”

At this, they avert their eyes and hug themselves. “Haha... Well, what do you expect? I’m only human.”

Alphys stares at them for a moment. Then she offers a timid but sincere smile. “C’mon. Undyne’s probably waiting for us already.”

They wobble in place, then stumble a couple steps forward before regaining their balance and falling in line with her.

“Are you okay?” she asks as they walk together back to the bed hall.

“Yeah, my legs just went numb. It’s too cold down here for me.”

_Is it that cold?_ Alphys wonders. But then, everybody has their different tolerances for temperature. And it _is_ a bit chilly.

\---

When Chara and Alphys enter the hallway to the north, they spot Undyne approaching from the east. The moment she sees them, she rushes over and spins Alphys into a bear hug. Alphys squeaks but doesn’t protest. Chara smiles a little to watch it, shifting their weight as they keep their hands stuffed in their pockets.

“Oh man, I was so worried about you guys!!” She sets Alphys down and looks between her and Chara. “I saw a couple more of those melty-monsters, and, uh... I saw a few I recognized in the crowd. Shyren’s sister... The Dog Squadron’s parents and cousins...” She frowns. “I have to admit... it was real sobering to realize, wow, these were people I _know_. No wonder you thought you had to keep it a secret all this time.”

Alphys nods, eyes down but shoulders up. “But that’s all over today. Um... Did you get the last keycard?”

“No, but I found the yellow slot,” she replies. “I got to the end of the hall but it was full of fog, so I backtracked and found this video room with a slot, so yeah, that’s taken care of. Then I went the other way and found a room full of fans, and when I turned ‘em on, I, uh, got jumped by Greater Dog’s extended family.”

“Good thing you had dog food on you,” Chara remarks.

“Actually, I was out by then, but it turns out that when you melt a bunch of dogs together, they’re still basically... a dog?” Undyne replies. “So I just had to, like, throw a spear for them to fetch, give ‘em a belly rub, tell ‘em what good boys and girls they were, and that was fine.”

“That’s awfully peaceful of you,” Chara remarks. “Let me guess: you intended to attack, but your spear missed and they fetched it for you?”

“Hrk!” She bares a toothy, twitchy grin. “Good... guess, punk!”

“Undyne, you know they won’t hurt you,” Alphys says, frowning.

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to _hurt_ them, I was just trying to get them to back off!” Undyne protests. “And it all worked out in the end, right? So anyway, I haven’t found that last keycard yet. I was just about to look again for it.” She jabs a thumb down the hall. “By the way, what’s on those tapes? There’s a bunch piled up next to the TV.”

“Oh, those,” Alphys says, resting a hand on her cheek. “Um, did you read the vid-log?”

“No, ‘cuz I’m not a nerd!”

She sighs, but with a rueful half-smile. “Well, I found them while I was, uh... snooping around the castle? Doing research on humans, I mean. But, um... well, I don’t think King Asgore has seen these tapes, and I don’t think he should...”

“Why not?” Chara asks.

“It’s sort of... difficult to explain. And, um, pretty disturbing. It’s not really relevant to why we’re down here, though... Since Undyne already finished up business in that room, we can just ignore them if you guys want.”

Chara looks from Alphys to Undyne. “I’m curious.”

Undyne folds her arms. “I’m kinda curious, too. All right, let’s have a look.”

Chara grins. There’s nothing quite like having someone you respect have the same opinion as you. The three of them head to the video room, and when they arrive, Alphys puts the first tape into the VCR and presses play.


	22. Don't Ask Me To Make That Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good (?) news! Normally chapters go up whenever, but the next two have a definite schedule. Chapter 23 will go live on the 23rd, and chapter 24 on the 29th. Happy reading!

“You need to get a new hobby,” Sans growls through a reaper’s grin, and the Player narrows its single red eye at him. Privately, he’s impressed and more than a little worried that this piece of garbage managed to survive his sneak attack. Granted, with Frisk’s SOUL there, he had to pull his punches a little to make sure he didn’t hit them by accident, but he was otherwise still trying his damnedest to kill this fucker. Sans doesn’t like his long-term odds against an amoral, mind-controlling superhuman from another world.

Damn. Of all the hypotheses he and the crew had discussed about what the true nature of the anomaly could be, it had to be _that_ one that was right.

“But hey,” he continues, raising his left hand, “if you still wanna play, I got plenty more where--”

The Player’s tattered negative-photon body flickers, then melts through solid rock and disappears. The corridor shrinks with it, leaving behind a table and a couple of flowers.

“Huh,” Sans utters, lowering his hand. He looks around. No sign of it. Well, that was anticlimactic. But hey, if it decided to turn tail and run, that’s just fine by him.

Suspicious, though. It took him a while to penetrate the distortion in space around this area, but he’s sure he felt a blip in time. If that thing shares the kid’s time powers, why run away? Especially with its goal right there? Shouldn’t it have loaded again? Just in case, he braces himself, but the temporal rewind never comes.

Oh well. Not like the answers will just magically come to him. There’s more important things to worry about right now. His eyes rest on a circular metal plate a couple feet to his right. It looks familiar. In fact--

His eyes widen. When he picks it up and turns it over, he finds exactly what he’s looking for: a serial number starting with the letters WDG. When he turns, he sees the human’s SOUL has fluttered over next to a jar-like SOUL container, the companion to the lid in his hand.

“Heh,” Sans mutters. “So this is what Papyrus was up to. No wonder he couldn’t tell me what was going on.” He raises his voice: “Papyrus? Bro, you there? Can you hear me?”

(“Yes! Brother! I’m right here!” Papyrus shouts back excitedly, running over to Sans. “Wowie, I haven’t seen you use so much effort in ages! I’m so proud!! But how did you know--actually never mind, that’s not important! The human needs our help! And look! It’s Dad! I found Dad!! Right after remembering we had one in the first place! Isn’t that wild??”)

Sans looks around. There’s no answer. That’s... not a good sign.

(Papyrus jazz-hands at Gaster, who smiles forlornly and says nothing. Sans doesn’t say anything either, much to Papyrus’s indignation. Actually, he’s looking around like he doesn’t even see him. “Sans, what is the matter with you!!” he demands, planting his hands on his hips. “Don’t you know it’s rude to call for someone and then ignore them when they answer you!”)

First things first, though: Sans has a promise to keep.

(Sans starts to move, and Papyrus holds out an arm to block his way. “Sans!! I’m talking to you! Don’t act like I’m not even he--”)

He strides over to the jar and picks it up.

(Papyrus shakes. He whips around to gawk at his brother, who had just walked clear through his arm like it wasn’t even there.)

There’s a long crack running up the side, which is also not a good sign, but as far as he can tell, it should still hold for a while.

(“Wh-what’s going on?” Papyrus croaks. “Sans! This isn’t funny! Please, answer me!”)

He walks over to the red SOUL, kneels down, and attempts to cup it between the jar and the lid.

(“(Do you begin to understand, Papyrus?)” Gaster asks, still smiling mournfully. “(As we are now, our existence is... parenthetical.)”)

“C’mon, kiddo. In you go,” he coaxes them.

(“I-I don’t understand,” Papyrus stammers.)

They float inside, and he screws on the lid, taps in the code, and nods when air gets pumped out and magic suffuses the inside. He turns it around to inspect the crack, and yup, it’s leaking. Only a little, though. It’ll last him long enough to get back to Alphys’s lab, and after that he won’t need this damn useless thing ever again.

(“(It means, we are now no more than an aside. All you and I are capable of now is... observation,)” Gaster replies. He folds his punctured hands. “(I am sorry. The alternative was to consign you to oblivion. I... could not permit that. I understand if you resent my decision.)”)

“Heh. I said that last time, too, huh?” he mutters, turning it over. “Papyrus, I sure am glad you didn’t listen to me.”

(Papyrus stares at Gaster, still not understanding, or maybe just not wanting to. Then, hearing his name, he turns slowly towards his brother. “Sans...” he murmurs.)

He looks down. There’s a little yellow flower there, lying face-down. There’s a couple of root-looking bits nearby, though the flower’s got others. Actually, it looks like it’s burrowing a couple into the ground right now. He frowns, remembering something, and reaches for it.

It springs away before he can pick it up, rearing away from his touch and glaring at him. It surprises Sans, but not more than he might have otherwise been; he does, however, still hold the SOUL jar a little tighter.

“Th-that SOUL belongs to me,” the flower snaps. “Give it back!”

Sans peers at him. “Huh. A little, yellow, talking flower.”

Though he looks more rattled than threatening, the flower demands, “You got a problem with that?!”

\---

It hadn’t taken long for Alphys to text Sans back, all OMG!!! and SO HYPE FOR MEW MEW WITH THE HUMAN. When Chara had finished changing, he popped into the laundry room to shrug on his hoodie and slippers. He could’ve probably swapped his pi pie shirt and gray sweats for his usual T-shirt and black running shorts, but eh, these were comfortable and clean, so why bother. He walked out, then nodded to Chara, who fidgeted near the front door.

“Ready to go?” he said.

“Yeah,” they said, but they hadn’t looked convincing.

“You sure?”

They hadn’t responded at first. Then they stilled themselves and looked up at him. “...Actually... if it’s okay... I’d like to ask you a favor.”

Sans had mentally squashed his knee-jerk wariness. “What’s up?”

They folded and unfolded their hands. “When you look for Frisk’s SOUL... chances are very high you’ll run into, uh... a little, yellow... talking flower.”

Sans waited for it.

They took a little breath, glanced to one side, then looked back at him. “I won’t ask you to make any promises,” they said, which wasn’t _promising_. “If you have to defend yourself or Frisk’s SOUL, I-I understand. But... uh... if it comes down to it... if talking doesn’t work... can you at least--can you make sure to spare him or run away?”

Sans raised a brow ridge. Chara stared down at their feet and re-folded their hands.

“Huh. Are you asking me to... not kill someone? Pshht. That’s easy,” he replied at length, shrugging. “ _Dead_ easy.”

They snorted and muscled off a smile. “I’m serious.”

“So am I. But, uh... I gotta say. It might help me out if I knew why this flower’s so important to you.”

It had taken them a while to respond. Whether it was to think of how to phrase their answer or to decide whether to answer at all, he didn’t know and still doesn’t. When they did speak, they were very quiet.

“Sorry, what was that?” he’d prompted.

They cleared their throat and stood up a little taller. “I said... that flower... He’s more important to me than anyone. He is to me... a little like how Papyrus is to you.”

Sans had stared. That... kind of knocked the wind out of him. If they were trying to manipulate him, they sure knew which buttons to press. “More important to you than Frisk?”

They flinched. “...Don’t ask me to make that choice.”

Sans had let silence hang in the air for a few seconds. Then he shrugged again. “All right. I’ll remember what you said.”

It was a far cry from anything like a promise, but relief, pure and raw, had still flooded Chara’s face. Seeing an expression like that... it had convinced Sans of their sincerity.

They really do love that little flower.

\---

“Nope,” says Sans. He winks his left eye shut. “Just reminded me of a funny story, is all. Wanna hear it?”

“No,” the flower replies curtly. “I want my SOUL back!”

“Pal, hate to break it to you, but this is obviously a human SOUL,” Sans points out wryly. “You don’t look human to me.”

“Ugh,” he mutters, grimacing. “It--it belongs to my friend! I have to give it back to them!”

“Don’t worry, I’m friends with that human, too,” Sans counters, winking again. “I’m gonna bring it right back to their body.”

“You _know_ where their body is?” he says suspiciously. Realization dawns on his face. “Wait, so _you_ took it away!”

“Yup. I found it around here and took it somewhere safe. ‘Course, at the time, I didn’t realize it was missing a SOUL,” Sans replies. “So I went out again looking for the other half.”

“Ugh!! I can’t believe it was with you the whole time!”

« _Thanks for taking care of my body, Sans._ »

“Huh?” Sans turns his head sharply to one side. Was that Frisk’s voice? Not that they usually string so many words together at once, but he could’ve sworn--

« _Um, down here._ »

He looks down at the SOUL jar. The SOUL bobs gently against the glass.

« _Hi,_ » they say.

“Holy heck,” Sans utters, eyes widening. “Wow. Yikes. You sure gave me a turn, kiddo.” So the prototype _was_ a success... Nice to know years of research hadn’t gone completely to waste. Now he’s _really_ glad Papyrus didn’t throw it away. “That sure makes things easier, though. I got your _buddy_ safe and sound. Let’s get you back to ‘em. In the meantime, I got some questions for you.”

« _Oh good,_ » they utter, mind-voice full of relief. It’s all gone a second later: « _Sans, there’s something you need to know first. Papyrus is in danger. We have to help him._ »

Dread floods in. “What happened? Where is he?”

“That’s a good question,” says the flower when Frisk hesitates, watching him closely. “You’re Papyrus’s brother, aren’t’cha? So it should be okay to tell _you_. Believe it or not, he walked through a gray door and disappeared!”

Oh no. “A gray... door?”

“Right! That _thing_ you scared off made it appear.”

Oh _no_. Sans looks up and around. There’s no sign of the door anywhere, let alone the corridor it should have been in.

« _I’m so sorry, Sans. I got separated from my body because of something that happened in there,_ » Frisk says miserably. « _So I was scared to go in, and Papyrus decided to go in by himself to make sure everything was safe, and..._ »

“And the door slammed shut behind him, then vanished,” the flower concludes. “Then that thing attacked. Who knows where he is now!”

Oh no no no no no no no...

(“I’m here! I’m right here!” Papyrus insists, reaching out for his brother and his friends as Sans’s eye sockets turn black. His arms pass through them like a ghost, though unlike the ghosts of the Underground, they don’t even see or hear or notice him. “Please, I’m right here!!”)

Vertigo assails Sans as the bottom falls out of his world. His right hand, still tucked in his hoodie pocket, curls around the blue heart note Papyrus left for him. He doesn’t speak; he can’t. If he tries, he feels like he’ll fall down in more ways than one.

« _Sans? Are you okay?_ » Frisk frets. « _I-I’m sorry I didn’t want to go in... If I hadn’t been such a coward, Papyrus might not have..._ »

“No time for regrets, human! Sans, you’re really strong, right? Because of those strange, special powers! Otherwise, you could never have driven that creature away, right?” the flower presses, watching him. “Please, you’ve got to save Papyrus! You’re the only one who can!”

Why do they keep doing this to him? Is it just something about time travelers? It must be. Considering his role, they probably have it in for him personally. ‘It’s a much bigger punishment to live with what you’ve done,’ Chara had said, and boy, does he know it--though in his case, it’s more often been a punishment to live with what he’s failed to do. And oh, there are _so many_ things he’s failed at doing.

“What are you just standing there for?” the flower demands. “Papyrus is your beloved brother, right? He needs you!”

Oh, god, he can’t handle this. Not again. Not _again_.

The flower keeps watching him. “Hey... Are you hesitating because you’re worried about the human’s SOUL? If so... I could take them to their body for you,” he offers. He smiles. “Just give me the SOUL and tell me where it is, and I’ll handle all that _for_ you. You can focus on your brother like you must desperately want to. Sound good?”

Nope, nope, nope. That’s not even the problem. It does, however, give Sans a mental anchor, because his suspicion kicks into hyperdrive at such an obviously shady offer.

Chara hadn’t said as much, but they did say enough for Sans to fill in the blanks with what he already knows. This flower, whoever he is, is the time traveler before them. And Chara probably thought they were trying to help, but Sans definitely picked up on their implication that he’d be hostile, possibly murderously so. If so, they’ve probably run afoul of each other in the past, and if _that’s_ true, then the cute little flower’s probably rotten to the core. Someone like that would say anything to get a hold of a human SOUL again. And...

“Sorry, _bud_ ,” he says aloud, affecting a casual chill. “But I made a promise.” No matter what, he has to hold onto that. “I’ve got to look after them myself.” Because if Papyrus has gone to where Gaster is... “But hey! Thanks for the offer! I’m sure it was definitely on the level.” ...it’s all he’s got left.

« _Sans, are you sure? If you’re worried about me, I can last a little longer as long as I’m in this jar,_ » Frisk insists.

“Not with that crack in it, you won’t,” Sans counters. Privately, he thanks them for making it easy. “It’ll hold for now, but it’s already leaking magic.”

« _Really?_ » they utter, and they sound surprised. « _But it’s_ easier _to think now, not harder..._ »

Sans doesn’t get what they mean by that, and right now, he doesn’t really care. “Right, so now that that’s settled, let’s get going.”

“Wait a second!” the flower shouts as Sans turns away. “So this promise is more important to you than your own brother’s life?” He narrows his eyes. “That’s cold, Sans. I thought Papyrus meant more to you than that.”

Sans’s smile strains.

« _Flowey!_ » scolds Frisk at the same moment. « _Don’t say that! This has to be a really hard decision for him!_ »

“Not that hard,” Sans lies, largely to convince himself. On the plus side, the jab makes him realize that if the two of them remember Papyrus too, then he must not have been _erased_ , just misplaced. That’s got to be it. Meaning: “Once you’ve got your body back, you can help me save Papyrus. You’ve got a few tricks of your own, right, kiddo?”

« _Oh! Right! I... I don’t know how helpful they’ll be, but I’ll do everything I can! I want to rescue Papyrus too!_ »

Sans nods once, hiding the relief that suffuses him, and moves again to leave. He didn’t doubt that Frisk would want to help, but still, it’s better to have their cooperation. Between them and Chara, maybe they can make something work, even without the Player.

...No. They’ve got to. Frisk _needs_ to still have their special powers. He can’t accept a world where the resets end at the cost of his only remaining family’s very existence.

“W-wait! Wait, you can’t just leave me behind!” the flower--Flowey--insists, tinged with desperation. “Take me with you! Or at least tell me where their body is!”

« _Flowey found me and brought me to Papyrus. And it was his idea to come here to look for my body,_ » Frisk pipes in. « _I know he’s rude, but he’s been trying to help. Please, Sans?_ »

“Right! I didn’t do ANYTHING to them, even though I COULD have!” Flowey declares. “So don’t you dare ditch me!”

“Whatever, Jerry. When I have the spare time, I’ll make you a prize ribbon: ‘Not As Much Of A Jerk As He Could Have Been,’” he quips, turning around. “But I’m in no mood to stand around arguing about this--” in truth, he’d be happy to literally walk away, but it occurs to him that it’s wiser to keep this little flower where he can see him-- “so fine. Hop on.”

He kneels and holds out the SOUL jar to Flowey. Flowey gives him a skeptical look, but carefully uproots himself--Sans notes that his injuries seem better already--and crawls on top of the jar. Not the best solution, but he’s sure as hell not letting Flowey ride on his shoulder like a little green-and-yellow parrot, and they’ll only need the jar for a little longer.

Once he’s secure, Sans stands back up. “All right. Everyone comfy?” He winks. “Well, even if you’re not, we’ll be there in a blink. Hang on.”

He clutches Papyrus’s note again to ground himself. Then he walks past the table into a certain shortcut.

\---

Papyrus chases after him, but past the shadows and Sans is gone, human and Flowey and all. Given that he went in the opposite direction of the ferry, he should’ve figured. Gaster glides up next to him as he holds a gloved hand to his teeth and frets.

“(Do you understand now, Papyrus?)”

“Yes!!” he declares. “I understand I need to get to where Sans is going because I have to make sure the human turns out okay!!”

Gaster pauses. “(...Papyrus, you... Does it not bother you that you can no longer interact with reality?)”

“Of course it bothers me!!!” he declares, trying and failing not to be affronted. “But I’m doing okay for now! And the human needs to get their body back!” He brightens. “And once they do, they and Sans and Flowey are going to come back for me!! It’ll all be okay!”

Gaster stares at him. Then he gives him a mournful smile. “(And how will they come back for you?)”

“By opening up the gray door again, duh!! Dad, I thought you were smart!”

“(And to where will the gray door lead?)”

“The gray room, obviously!! Um, where are you going with this?”

“(And what has become of the gray room?)”

Papyrus opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Gaster watches his face closely, then nods once. “(Finally, you understand.)”

“I...” he utters, at a loss. “I...” He curls his hands into fists, squares his shoulders, and looks his father in the eye. “I still need to watch over them. The human’s still split up, and I haven’t seen Sans work so hard since you were still around! I have to make sure everything turns out all right!” He smiles aggressively. “And even if the gray room is gone! That doesn’t mean there’s no hope! If I keep an eye on them, then I can make sure I do what I need to so they can help me! And if they can help me... maybe they can help you, too, Dad!!” He pauses. A couple drops of sweat bead on his skull. “Now I just need to figure out how to get back home so I can do all that??”

A sound that Papyrus assumes is a chuckle rattles from Gaster’s throat. “(As optimistic as ever,)” he replies. “(But... perhaps there may indeed be a chance for you, Papyrus. Your consciousness is both coherent and not yet grayed out, your body has neither melted nor been reduced to dust... and most importantly, your SOUL still retains hope.)” He drips emphatically. “(It stirs some vestigial hope in me, as well.)”

“That’s right!! Never give up!!” Papyrus declares, pumping a fist. “And if you’ve already given up, I’ll just make you give up on giving up!” He beams at him. “Come on, Dad! Between my can-do attitude and rakish good looks, and your weird timey-wimey powers, we’ll both find a way home for sure!”

Gaster makes the rattly sound again. Yes, that’s _definitely_ a chuckle! “(Very well. If nothing else, your ‘can-do attitude’ soothes my spirit. But Snowdin is the incorrect destination. Sans has headed to Alphys’s lab in Hotland.)”

“Wowie!! Your timey-wimey powers are working already!”

“(Mmm, to be more precise, it is a a by-product of my current omnipresence--a spatial function rather than a temporal one...)”

Papyrus stomps a foot a couple times. “Whatever!!” Then what Gaster says sinks in, and he brightens. “Can your sci-fi space powers pop us over, too??”

Waterfall shimmers around them like snow and static, if snow and static were bits of a new location replacing the old one. “(We... are already... there.)”

“How convenient!!” Papyrus enthuses, leaping forward and landing in Alphys’s lab. He looks around eagerly, but is taken aback by what he sees--or rather, what he doesn’t see.

\---

« _Um... so where is my body, exactly?_ » Frisk wonders.

“And why aren’t we at your place?” Flowey adds.

Sans looks around the lab. Frisk looks around too (it’s easier to think of how they sense their surroundings as “looking”). No Alphys, no Chara... Sans _was_ trying to imply that Chara’s still in their body, right? They’re not sure if they made the right decision, insisting that Flowey come along, but they’d like it if they could help the two of them talk things out. Sans sets the jar down on Alphys’s messy table by nudging aside her dinosaur teacup, and they look up at her computer screen. A video player is up, paused on a frame of an anime with a girl with cat ears.

“I dropped them off here before I left,” Sans remarks. “Figured Alphys could keep an eye on them for me. Huh.” He pulls out his phone. “Hold on, I’ll shoot her a text.”

“Maybe they’re upstairs,” Flowey suggests.

Sans eyes him for some reason, but heads on over to the downstairs escalator after finishing his text anyway. Despite Frisk knowing for a fact that it’s too fast to actually ascend, he disappears up it.

“ _Finally_ ,” Flowey mutters. He sends roots growing down the table leg and pulls Frisk’s jar along with him, a pair of tendrils looped carefully around it.

« _Flowey? What are you doing?_ »

“Sh. He won’t be distracted long.”

Frisk falls silent, puzzled and a little worried. They don’t think Flowey’s going to do anything bad, but they’re not sure they like sneaking around behind Sans’s back. When they reach the floor, Flowey digs his roots through it with practiced ease, and a few seconds later, both of them sink underneath.

« _Flowey, is this a good idea?_ » Frisk presses, starting to get uncomfortable as the hole closes above them.

“Sure it is, friend!” he chirps. “I don’t trust Sans, and neither should you. I don’t know how much you’ve told him about yourself--too bad I couldn’t have given you advice earlier, ‘cuz it would’ve been to tell him NOTHING--but...” He gives them a flat smile. “Well. You saw his little skull-buddies for yourself. Let’s just say that wasn’t the first time we’ve been introduced.”

Frisk hadn’t thought of it from that angle. Their memories outside the jar are fuzzy, but they do recall Sans using overwhelming power. They’d been super-impressed, though by the time their thoughts were back in order, there were more urgent things to discuss. They guess it’d be less impressive and more terrifying if you were on the receiving end.

« _Okay, but what are we doing?_ » they ask instead.

“Finding your body, of course!” Flowey says brightly as he brings both of them down wires and cogs and sheets of metal. “If Alphys isn’t up _there_ , then she must be down _here_. You’ve never been this way, have you?”

« _No,_ » they admit. « _Um, where are we going?_ »

“You’ll see~!”

Frisk is quiet for a moment. Then: « _Thanks for looking out for me, Asriel._ »

Flowey slows, then when he reaches a platform both of them can fit on, he stops, staring at them. Frisk taps the glass gently and tries to radiate their gratitude towards him. They’re not sure they like this, but they do want him to know they appreciate him. One thing they do remember is how passionately he begged the third one to release them.

“Haha...” He smiles, though it’s pained in the ruddy light they cast on him. “It’s weird. The longer I’m around you, the more it feels like... how it did when I had a SOUL.” He glances away. “Even though it wasn’t like this when I had six of ‘em inside me.” He leans his face against their jar. If it weren’t for the glass, they’d be touching. “Why...? What is it about you? Is it just because you remind me of Chara...?”

Frisk pauses. « _Maybe Chara,_ » they say carefully, « _isn’t as gone as you think they are._ »

“What?”

« _You love them, right? And... I know they loved you, too._ » Frisk pauses again, but this time, words to both reassure Flowey and keep Chara’s secret fail them. « _Sorry. Never mind. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings._ »

“Haha... I don’t have any feelings to hurt, remember? But... I kind of like that you worry about them anyway,” he replies, still leaning on their jar. Comfortable silence breathes between them for a moment. Then: “To tell you the truth, I’m still not totally convinced by you.”

« _What do you mean?_ »

“I mean your whole... you-ness. Say what you want, but you still killed almost everyone last timeline. You’ve got plenty of reason to hate me and want me to suffer, too. You’ve got the potential for cruelty. The worst part? You don’t even have to _mean_ to be cruel. You just have to get interested in something else. Once you get the ending you want, you’ll get bored and leave me behind. You’ll find another game you like better, and then I’ll be all alone again.”

« _I won’t leave you behind, Asriel. I promise,_ » they swear, and they send out every ounce of sincerity they can. « _Chara wouldn’t want me to abandon you, either._ »

His smile aches. “You sure like to talk like you’d know what Chara would want... You know what’s funny, though? I kind of... want to believe you. You keep surprising me. Today alone has been full of new experiences! It’s like, as long as you’re here, I’ll never run out of interesting things to see and do. And... when I called for help, you came. That confuses me most of all. Haha... Pretty stupid, right?”

« _Asriel..._ »

He glances away. “I just want someone I won’t get bored of. I want some point in continuing on in a world without Chara. And right now, you’re the best I’ve got.”

« _I’m so sorry, Asriel. I can’t even imagine how hard it’s been for you._ »

He traces a leaf along the crack in their jar. “Say, friend. What are you gonna do if you get your body back?”

« _I’m gonna help Sans save Papyrus,_ » they reply promptly, figuring that by “if,” he means “when.” « _Then I’m gonna find Alphys and be better friends with her. And then I’m going to save Asgore, and_ then _I’m hoping I can find a way to break the barrier without anybody dying so everyone can go free and be happy._ »

“Golly.”

« _But the very_ first _thing I’m gonna do... is give you a hug._ »

Flowey stares up at them. “Wait, what?”

« _And a kiss,_ » Frisk adds, and laughs at the look on his face. « _I’m gonna smooch you right on top of your head and tell you how cute your petals look._ »

Flowey sputters. It’s impossible to tell if he looks red because of their light or not, but Frisk likes to think he’s embarrassed. “I-I’m not CUTE!”

« _Uhhh, yes you are? One out of one humans agree: Flowey = totally cute._ »

“C-cut it out! Stop teasing me!”

« _Aww, does that mean you don’t want to go on a date later?_ »

Flowey almost snaps something, then hesitates. He glances to one side. “...I’ve never been on a date before.”

« _It’s fun!_ » Frisk enthuses. « _You won’t be bored for a second, I promise. I won’t let you be!_ »

“.......I want a fancy date.”

« _You got it! I know just the place to get a reservation!_ »

He smiles, curls his roots around their jar, and just watches them for a minute. Frisk doesn’t push him to respond, though they do vibrate with excitement. They can’t _believe_ he said yes! They’ll have to explain it to Chara later, but they don’t think they’ll mind.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Come to think... I don’t even know your name. What is it?”

« _It’s Frisk!_ »

“Frisk, huh... That’s a nice name.” His smile fades. It returns a moment later to the tune of an oddly defeated sigh. “Well... let’s get back on the road, then. You need your body, right...?”

« _Thanks, Asriel. You’re the best._ »

“Yeah, yeah.”

But he still takes extra care with their jar when he begins their descent anew.

\---

Sans grins with gritted teeth at the Frisk- and Flowey-less desk. There’s no Alphys or Chara upstairs either, and his texts and calls have gotten no response. “You gotta be kidding me,” he mutters. “Serves me right for chancing it.”

But... there’s one place they might have all gone. He looks over at the “bathroom” door, and walks up to it to test a little guess he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...and your weird timey-wimey powers..." This is a reference to the episode _Blink_ from season three of the new _Doctor Who_.
> 
> "I'll make you a prize ribbon: 'Not As Much Of A Jerk As He Could Have Been.'" This is a reference to a meme.


	23. That's Messed Up!

“Psssst,” whispers Toriel’s giddy voice; despite being a video tape, the TV screen shows nothing but textured darkness. “Gorey, wake up.”

“Hey, is that Asgore’s ex?” Undyne murmurs as Asgore sleepily responds on the VCR. “Wow, I’ve never met her before.”

“Shh,” Chara hushes her, listening raptly. They laugh in delight at Toriel’s eda-MOM-e and MOM-eranian jokes, then snort at Asgore’s MOM-edian joke. By the time the video ends, their smile is warm and fond and just a little homesick.

“Aww, that was sweet,” Undyne says, smiling too. “Why shouldn’t we have listened to it, Alphys?”

But Alphys just pops in the next tape.

Chara’s smile dies immediately as they hear the voice:

“Okay, Chara, ready? Do your creepy face!” Asriel shrieks with delight and then dissolves into laughter before realizing that he’d left the lens cap on. The video ends soon after.

They remember this.

“That was sweet too! What gives?” Undyne protests. “That must’ve been Prince Asriel... I never met him, either. Too bad that Chara kid talks so quiet. They’re, like, the only other decent human ever.” She claps Chara’s shoulder and doesn’t seem to notice when they flinch. “I bet you’d have liked ‘em! Asgore loved that little punk. The kingdom was crushed when they...” She sobers. “You know.”

Chara stares at the floor. Alphys trades in the third tape and presses play. Asriel’s giddy voice rings out again, once more to a dark video: “Howdy, Chara! Smile for the camera!” A pause. “Ha! This time I got _you_! I left the cap on... ON PURPOSE! Now you’re smiling for noooo reason! Hee hee hee!”

_Hey, Ree?_

“What?”

_Remember that awful thing we made last month?_

“Oh, yeah. I remember. When we tried to make butterscotch pie for Dad, right? The recipe asked for cups of butter… but we accidentally put in buttercups instead.”

_...Right. Accidentally. They sure were potent, though, huh...?_

“Yeah! Those flowers got him really sick. I felt so bad. We made Mom really upset. I should have laughed it off, like you did…”

_...haha..._

“Um, anyway, where are you going with this?”

_Ree... Turn off the camera._

“Huh? Turn off the camera…? OK.”

Undyne frowns as the tape comes to an end. “Wait, what? I never heard about this before. What’d Asriel mean, laugh it off?”

Alphys moves to trade in the fourth tape, but Chara reaches out and grabs the sleeve of her coat without looking at her.

“I-is something wrong?”

_That’s enough. I don’t want to hear any more,_ they want to tell her, but their throat won’t work. The words are caught partway, dammed by self-loathing.

“You okay, buddy?” Undyne asks, leaning over next to them.

Chara opens their mouth, shuts it, lets Alphys go, and nods slightly.

“Oh, okay. Let’s listen to the next tape, then.”

When Alphys slips the tape in, Chara flinches again and covers their ears, but they can’t escape their own memories.

\---

Papyrus leaps forward and lands in Alphys’s lab. He looks around eagerly, but is taken aback by what he sees--or rather, what he doesn’t see.

“Wowie! I didn’t know Dr. Alphys got her lab renovated!” he declares. “That’s genius for you! She made it so Sans and my friends turned invisible as soon as they arrived!”

“(Not... as such,)” Gaster replies. “(Turn around, Papyrus.)”

He does as he’s told. “Wowie squared!! It’s the human!! And Undyne and Dr. Alphys!” he cheers. He squints at the TV they’re all watching. “And they’re doing a midnight screening!!” He pauses. “Wait a second. Why’s the human’s body standing around?!”

“(Because that is Chara inhabiting it,)” Gaster replies.

“Oh.” Papyrus stomps a foot. “Well they need to give it back!!”

“(They intend to. But Sans has yet to bring your friend’s SOUL to them.)”

“Oh! Well that makes perfect sense. But where _are_ Sans and the human?”

Gaster tilts his head as if watching something Papyrus can’t see. “(They’ve been separated, but they are both still on their way here.)”

“Oh goodie! Is the human okay? With that cracked jar and all.”

“(Yes. Curious, that. I hypothesize that while the conservation tube prototype keeps entropy from claiming the SOUL, what strengthens the SOUL’s ability to ‘think’ and ‘feel’ are re-encountering significant connections made while it inhabited a body. A pity my days of research are over; I have no way to test it now, alas.)”

“Not so fast, Dad! We’re right here in a science lab! You could still do science stuff yet!” He pauses again. “By the way, why _are_ we here? Like. RIGHT here. Where the human isn’t.”

“(Ah, yes. If you wish to reach out to the Player, your most logical route would be via Chara. If you wish to reach out to Chara, you must understand who they are and what they have done.)”

“Oh! Good thinking!! The Player seems like a tough nut to crack, but I’m always ready to make a friendship!” Papyrus cheers.

“(Even if it is someone who has done terrible things?)”

“ESPECIALLY then!! How will they stop doing terrible things and start being the excellent person they are inside without a cool skeleton like me as a role model?!”

Gaster smiles. It’s hard to tell if it’s proud or sad. Obviously it must be proud, then! He lifts both hands. “(Then watch and listen, my son.)”

As the fourth tape begins to play, voices and visions glitter around them in four dimensions.

\---

“I... I don’t like this idea, Chara,” Asriel admits. His fur is white, but he seems somehow paler than usual all the same. The videocam hangs at his side, and although he’d pressed the STOP button, he hadn’t pressed hard enough; it came undone, and the red REC light now glows. Neither he nor Chara notice.

“What, you don’t want everyone to go free?” Chara replies. Their eyes and voice are cold and quiet as they stand in front of Asriel, who sits on his bed in their shared room.

“Wh... what?” Asriel utters, tears beading at the corners of his eyes. “N-no, I’m not...”

“Stop. No crying, Ree. You’re a big kid like me,” Chara insists, grabbing his face with both hands. “And what don’t big kids do?”

“...big kids don’t cry,” he replies dutifully. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Chara nods and lets him go. “So then what’s the problem? I know you want to save everyone.” They frown. “Or do you just not trust me? You think I’m like all the other humans?”

“No!” Asriel shoots back. A smile glimmers on Chara’s lips. “I’d never doubt you, Chara... Never!”

“Thanks. That means a lot to me, Asriel.” Their smile fades, and they step closer to rest their hands on his shoulders. “Look. I know it might sound extreme, but I won’t be dead forever. I’ll live on in you. Okay? And then we’ll fulfill the prophecy together. We’ll be the angel.”

“Y... yeah!” Asriel agrees, head bobbing up and down. “We’ll be strong! We’ll free everyone.” He hops off the bed to stand tall, and his eyes gleam with a hint of determination. “I’ll go get the flowers.”

But first, he wraps his arms around Chara, who blinks wide twice. Their red eyes soften, and they lean back into the hug as the videocam’s battery light flashes and the device goes dead.

\---

The vision dissolves as the tape ends, showing Papyrus the viewing room once again: Undyne with her lip curled as she stares at the TV, and Dr. Alphys glancing worriedly and frequently at the human--at Chara, who is crouching on their knees, hands over their ears.

“Wh-what was that?” Papyrus asks.

“(Chara’s memories, stirred by Dr. Alphys’s... confiscated tape,)” Gaster replies. “(It is dangerous for you to be exposed to too much of my power, so I merely made a visual projection based on their psychic emanations to sync with the audio.)”

“Why’s it dangerous?”

“(Because you will end up fully grayed out like me, and while your company is deeply appreciated, I fear you would not find the void so pleasant.)” Gaster pauses. “(Well. You will gray out eventually regardless. But I imagine you would prefer to retain color for as long as possible, so I am trying to avoid actions that will hasten the process.)”

“‘Gray out’? ‘Retain color’??”

“(Gray out: to become detached from reality in full or near-full. Retain color: to maintain significant connection to reality, typically via the memories of those who once knew you. To be grayed out is... an unpleasant state of being. This is why I avoided hugging you; you have already been forgotten by a great many people.)”

“This is a lot to take in all at once,” he says, sweating.

“(Then don’t. Simply observe.)”

The shrouded skeleton turns his gaze back to the others, and Papyrus follows suit.

\---

“What. The. _Heck_?” Undyne utters, somewhere between disturbed and angry. “I don’t get any of this. Alphys, what’s going on here?”

“The last tape brings it all together... but...” She looks down at the human, who still has their hands over their ears. Intuition has its place in science, and she bets she knows why they’re reacting so negatively to the tapes. “M-maybe we’d better stop. The human’s upset...”

Undyne crouches down next to them and rests a hand on their back. “Hey, what’s wrong?” They don’t respond, and she sneers at the TV screen. “Ugh, not like I need to ask. That Chara’s a sicko. I can’t believe I thought they were a decent human. Poisoning Asgore and then laughing about it... Rarrgh!! If they were here right now, I’d punch ‘em in the face!!”

The human jerks away from Undyne and stumbles back a couple steps.

“Woah, calm down. I didn’t say I’d punch _you_ ,” Undyne says, holding up her hands. “I know _you’re_ a decent human.” She grins. “Well. I know _now_ , anyway.”

But they shake their head and quietly start to laugh. “How bad does it get?” they murmur to Alphys, not looking at anyone.

“Um... I-I can summarize it if you want...”

“Put it in.” They laugh a little more and press one hand to their face. “You wanted us to know the truth, didn’t you?”

Alphys bites her lip; then she slips in the fifth and final tape.

The three (five) of them listen quietly as Toriel and Asgore tearfully tell Chara to not give up, to wake up, that they are the hope of monsters and humans. They listen as Asriel whispers that he doesn’t want to do this anymore seconds before saying no, he wouldn’t doubt them, and they just need to get six--and they’ll do it together, won’t they?

The human’s shoulders shake badly by the end. They’re holding one hand to their mouth and the other arm around their shoulders as they hunch over. Alphys can hear them giggling breathlessly, but their laughter sounds awful close to sobbing, and they also look like they’re about to vomit.

“Wait. _Wait_. So Chara... killed themselves? And got Asriel to absorb their SOUL so he could kill six more humans??” Undyne says, baffled. “Why would they do that??” She narrows her eye. “Why would they make another KID kill for them? That’s messed up!”

“I-I’m sure they had their reasons,” Alphys mumbles.

“Yeah, messed up reasons! Tch. I get why you didn’t show these to Asgore now. He’d be heartbroken if he found out that human kid was scum after all. I’m no fan of humans, but kids shouldn’t be going around killing anybody.”

Alphys cringes. “Undyne, that’s going too--”

But the human cracks their head back and barks out laughter in a broken staccato. “That’s right!” they gasp. “Chara was scum! Humans are _all_ scum! You know that better than anyone, Undyne. That’s why we all have to die, isn’t that right?!”

“Woah, hey, I never said that!” she protests, blinking. “Well... maybe I used to think like that... but _you’re_ okay. You’d never do something like that.”

“You IDIOT!” they snap, lashing an arm out. “You can’t even see what’s right in front of your face!”

“What the heck’s that supposed to mean? What’s gotten into you?” she demands, scowling. “Look, if you’re upset I insulted humans, I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Feelings? _What_ feelings?” They bark out another litany of mirthful despair. It sends shivers up Alphys’s spine to hear it. “Why should I care about vile humans?”

“Uhhh, because you _are_ one?”

“Me? Ahahaha! You mean you haven’t noticed at all? You truly are ignorant!” They gape up at both of them, a crescent smile slashing their face open. “I’m not human. I’m a demon. Just a twisted, empty hell-thing in a humanoid shell. And you’re both fools!!”

And then they turn and flee the room. Undyne gawks at their back, openly confounded, while Alphys fiddles with her claws.

“What was that about??” Undyne wonders, somewhere between angry and worried. “I never said all that! Why are they so upset?!”

Alphys looks at the TV, at the videos, at Undyne, at the doorway. She glances to one side, folding and unfolding her feet over and over again. “U-um... I... I have a guess, but... I-I don’t know if I should say... I-It’ll sound ridiculous, and, um, I’m not sure I’m right...”

Undyne smiles a little, expression grim, and rests a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me.”

But before she can, someone unexpected strolls through the door.

\---

No matter how far they run, it could never be far enough, because you can never escape what you are.

Chara sprints down the hallway, past several doors, past a skull-like contraption, into a freezer room with the fans on full blast. They only stop when one of the freezers morphs into an amalgamate monster, and even then only when the slick sheet of frost at their feet gives way and sends them sliding down the green floor tiles to crash into the opposite wall. They crumple, stunned, as a draconic monster with a score of faces drifts up to them, blocking off any escape they might have. Chara pants, then looks up at them. It’s so cold, they can’t even feel the pain anymore. Bodily pain, anyway.

“...s.o.c.o.l.d...” the monster whispers from five different mouths.

“Go away,” Chara gasps. “I don’t have anything for you.”

Crescent bullets drift like lost snow around the human and the amalgamate. Even if Chara had had a SOUL, it would have been in no danger.

“...s...now...y...” the monsters whispers, listing in one direction.

“Go away,” Chara repeats. “I can’t help you.”

The chill air intensifies. It smells like salty slush. Chara’s breath comes out in clouds of solid white, and comes in like knives of ice. The amalgamate’s bullets still drift aimlessly. It’s so cold.

Chara grits their teeth and push themselves upright. Their left leg isn’t working right, and when they get to their knees, it’s easy to see why; there’s a long and bloody scratch up and down their knee where they’d fallen. They hadn’t noticed. The amalgamate sinks her head closer and emits a low, mournful keen. It takes a moment for them to realize that, for all that she’s literally lost inside her own head, she’s worried about them.

And it’s funny. It’s SO funny, they can’t help but laugh. They laugh so hard that their ribs ache and their eyes stream tears. This poor abomination of science is worried about them, even though they bring nothing but misfortune? It’s TOO funny. They can’t stop laughing.

Until she gently nuzzles them, and their laughter breaks and crumbles.

Hands shaking, they grab hold of the fur/fronds on either side of her head. She keens a name again, and Chara thinks of the Snowdin teen who’d told truly subpar ice puns and how they’d told him nobody would ever love him as he was. Frisk had undone their casual cruelty. It seems like such a long time ago now.

“You look horrible. Why are you even alive?” they whisper, or maybe she whispers, they aren’t sure. The contemptuous heckling gets lost somewhere along the way. They stroke her neck. Scale and fur and leaves melt together under their fingertips to create a goop of texture. Maybe they’re getting frostbite. “It’s so cold. But isn’t it better to feel nothing? Isn’t it better than being miserable and lost?”

“...Sn...o...wy...” she whispers again.

“You should go away,” they murmur, eyes stinging. “I’m just a cold-blooded murderer.”

“...hehe... he...”

They blink slowly. Did she just... laugh a little? Thinking back, her husband is a comedian, too. Their son ran away because he wanted to prove he could get laughs with his awful, awful jokes, too. Chara strokes her face. “You want to stay instead? That’s... _snow_ problem,” they attempt.

She laughs again, her many faces crinkling up. There’s a glimmer of something like memory in her various eyes.

“Anyway, it’s _ice_ to meet you,” they conclude.

“Haha... I remem... ber...” she whispers. Her faces look happy. She pulls away, gentle as a snowbank, and some of her body comes apart in Chara’s hands, melting to show a blue keycard. “Haha... thank... you...”

They watch as she slips away, gliding along the ice like a ghost, before she melts into the darkness, possibly literally. Then they stare down at the keycard in their hand--the last one they needed. They just need to regroup with Undyne and Alphys, and find the last colored slot.

Chara stares at nothing for a moment. Then they dig out Frisk’s phone and thumb through their contacts list. Sans’s number isn’t in there. Even if it were, their phone has no bars.

They curl their arms around their knees and bow their head down on top. A flower peeks out from behind a rumbling freezer, but neither of them notice shadows, darker than black, flicker and stalk in around Chara.

\---

“I knew you could do it, Chara!!” Papyrus cheers as Chara successfully calms down the amalgamate and lets her go peacefully on her way. “You see?? All you have to do to be a better person is try! Look how happy you made her! You...”

He trails off when they check their phone, then curl in on themselves. He’s well aware that they can’t hear him anyway, but he sighs a little and sits down next to them. Gaster flickers several paces away.

“You’re really unhappy, aren’t you?” Papyrus remarks, looking at Chara with a concerned frown. “You remind me a little of my brother, Sans. I don’t always know how to help him, either. I do my best to push him forward and encourage him to be _his_ best, even if he likes to be annoying on purpose sometimes, but he also doesn’t believe in himself!”

Chara of course doesn’t respond. Papyrus sighs again, then looks over at Gaster.

“Is this how you feel all the time, Dad?” he wonders.

Gaster’s robes drip in reverse, like a lava lamp. “(Less so with you here now.)”

Papyrus smiles at that. It doesn’t last when he notices a hole in reality slithering across the floor towards Chara.

“Hey!! It’s you again!!” he declares. He brightens. “What a wonderful coincidence! I was hoping again I could see you, Player! Could you please make Dad and me real so we can do a friendship with Chara?”

A lump of darkness pokes up from the floor, and a glowing red line peers at him. At the same moment, Gaster’s left, non-collapsed eye flashes bright orange and half a dozen hands streak through the air. OK sign-left point-up point-white flag-skull and crossbones-left point “(BEGONE),” and they sear down at the Player lump. They impact on the floor with a black crackle of energy, and the shadow stretches out wide in a circle an instant before the strike before bubbling away at the edges and vanishing in a ring of smoke.

“What did you do that for!!” Papyrus demands, getting to his feet. “That’s not how you do a friendship! That’s how you do a violence!!”

In lieu of an answer, Gaster looks at the opposite door a second before it opens and Sans walks in.

\---

The freezer room lives up to its name. Not having skin, Sans isn’t particularly bothered by the cold, but it’s not the kind of place he’d want to leave a human child for long--especially when he’s got a bad feeling about certain creepy-crawlies. A quick glance around the room shows him that it’s empty except for Chara, though a tile near one of the freezers is loose.

“Huh,” he mutters. “I coulda sworn...”

“Hey, move it!” Undyne yells from behind him, shoving him to one side and popping her head inside. Her eyes train on the kid, and she exclaims, “THERE you are!”

Chara lifts their head, and panic and relief cycle in rapid succession across their face. “Sans?” they say.

“Hey, kiddo,” he replies, winking in greeting and letting himself slide to one side. “Been looking all over for you.”

Alphys slips into the room behind the two of them, claws clacking nervously. “U-um. Hi!” she blurts out.

Chara looks them all over warily. Then they focus on him. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“I’ve got all kinds of news,” Sans replies. “Why don’t we get out of here first? You must be chilled to the _bone_.”

“Actually, I need to do something in the next room real quick--” Alphys starts.

“I’m fine,” Chara interrupts, staring at Sans. “Just tell me you found it.”

“I found it.”

Relief wins the war over panic, and they struggle up to their feet. With their hands on the wall for balance, all of them can see the smear of blood down their one leg.

“WOAH, what’d you do to yourself?” Undyne demands, striding over to them. “Lemme see that!”

Alphys also approaches several steps, eyes wide; then she glances to the north, bites her lip, and hurries through the doorway.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt--”

But Undyne being Undyne, she takes approximately one second of guff to lose her patience, and drops to her knees so she can grab Chara and heft them over one shoulder.

They yelp in surprise as Alphys returns; there must have been a slot to the north. That’s a non-concern for Chara right now. “H-hey, put me down!”

“Nope! Suck it up, kiddo! We’re getting you somewhere Alphys can take a look at you!”

“I’m _fine_ , I’ve been hurt worse!” And when that doesn’t work, they snap, “I’ve been hurt worse by _you_.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m worried about you, punk!!” Undyne shoots back, unfazed. Sans steps to one side to let her pass; then he and Alphys follow in her wake. “Now shut up and let me carry you to a bed already!”

Chara stares at the back of her head, then down at Alphys and Sans. Sans shrugs. Chara blinks rapidly, then averts their eyes and holds a blue card out to Alphys.

“O-oh, you found the last one! Great job!” she enthuses, accepting it. “Once w-we, um, use it on the last slot, we can fix the elevator’s power... a-after we heal your leg, of course!”

Chara looks back at Sans. Sans holds their gaze like nothing’s wrong. Then they nod.

“OK,” they murmur, and obediently let themselves be carried to the sleeping room.

There’s a bed with the covers already pulled down, and Undyne plops them down there, then heads back to the sinks to dampen a few hand towels. When she returns with them, Alphys takes them and kneels down in front of Chara to inspect and clean their knee.

In the meantime, Sans takes the opportunity to glance around. It’s been a long time since he was here last. Not much has changed. There’s no sign of Flowey or Frisk, but they’re probably not far away. That loose tile was suspicious, though who knows; it could just be a mouse. He’d promised to find the SOUL and bring it back, and technically he’s accomplished that in letter if not quite in spirit. But then, it’s the spirit that matters here, isn’t it?

“Sans,” Chara says, pulling his attention their way. “Do you, uh...”

“Let’s talk about that when we get back to the main lab,” he replies. “It’s a little complicated.”

“What’re you two talking about?” Undyne asks.

Chara hooks their fingers around the locket hanging from their neck. “Nothing.”

Alphys wipes off the last of the blood, revealing a four-inch-long scrape that continues to ooze. She presses a hand towel to the cut and casts a healing spell, then frowns in concern up at Chara when they don’t even flinch. “U-um. D-did you maybe... lose something?”

They suck in a little breath, and Sans holds his. Damn. Alphys always was smart. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought Chara to her, but he wasn’t exactly spoiled for options at the time.

“...Yes,” they admit. “Something important. Sans was looking for it for me.”

They look to him for confirmation, and he nods, keeping his demeanor casual. “Yup.”

“Wait, was that in Waterfall?” Undyne asks. “Is THAT what you were walking around for?”

“Yup.”

“Dang! You should’ve told me, I would’ve helped you out!”

“Nah, it’s fine. I found it just fine on my own.”

That makes Chara smile, which makes Sans feel bad. If they’re always pinpointing his weak points, he’s always bursting their bubble.

“There’s still some hiccups,” he adds: case in point. “But once you’ve got it back, there’s something I need your help with in return.”

Their smile is already gone. “What is it?”

“Something happened with Papyrus. Your _other_ buddy did something to him,” he replies. “I’m gonna need your extra-special abilities to get him back, safe and sound.”

Their eyes widen and their lips purse. “...Okay,” they reply. “You did promise. I’ll do my best to return the favor.”

Phew. That’s how he was hoping they’d react. Okay, with this in place, once he can get the kid’s body and SOUL back together, everything should be just--

“Hey, can I ask something?” Undyne interrupts.

Sans gives her his usual smile. “Sup?”

She frowns back at him. “Who the heck is Papyrus?”

\---

Sans’s eye sockets black out. Chara can’t blame him; it’s almost as much of a shock to them to hear that.

“What do you mean, who’s Papyrus?” they ask when Sans says nothing. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“No?” Undyne replies, furrowing her brows at them.

A nasty feeling starts to churn like nausea in their gut. Sans _did_ imply the third one did something to Papyrus. “He’s Sans’s brother. Your subordinate?”

“O-oh, you have a brother, Sans?” Alphys pipes up. “I-I never knew!”

Sans doesn’t reply. His sockets are still dark, and he starts to tremble. That, more than anything, alarms Chara. They know how much Papyrus means to him, and whether he knows what this means or not, that has to be a huge blow to him.

“How can you not know who Papyrus is? Who do you think introduced you and me?” Chara tries again, this time focusing back on Undyne.

“Well, duh! That was... uh... that was...” She scratches her head, confused. “That’s weird. Now that you mention it, I can’t remember.”

“Um, Sans? Are you okay?” Alphys wonders.

He still doesn’t answer, though his head sinks a little. It scares Chara to see. If he crumbles, what are they going to do? He’s their only real ally right now, such as he is, and--

A flash of red catches their eye, and their heart leaps into their throat. It came from the mirrored hallway. They look at their companions.

“I’ll be right back. Maybe a snack will help,” they say, grasping at the first paper-thin lie that comes to mind. They don’t wait for an answer, though Alphys tries to give one, something about potato chips; they shuffle away from her, hop off the bed, and leave the monsters behind.

There’s still not a lot of light, and they walk partway down the corridor without seeing a thing. The Reaper Bird should have already left, but they maintain a little caution, just in case. Maybe it was just their imagination or wishful thinking, or maybe it was a trap. They look back and forth, and golden flowers surround them...

Low red light catches their eye, and they look down to the floor at the end of the table of potted flowers. Hope surges in their chest. Yes, that’s it! A floating red heart, a SOUL, _Frisk’s_ SOUL, inside a cracked glass jar of all things, but who cares about that. Sans kept his promise; it’s right here. Finally, they can give them their body back and apologize for everything they’ve done. But... why is it _here_? Why didn’t he have it on him? And why is there...

Their eyes widen. _Idiot!_ they yell at themselves. Even if it is dark in here, why didn’t they notice what was next to it?

“Howdy, Chara,” says Flowey, his smile bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “...s.o.c.o.l.d...” This is an homage to the ghosts on the ghost train in _Final Fantasy VI_.


	24. You're Not Welcome Here

Flowey stares at Frisk’s ambulant body from his hiding spot behind the freezer. Before he can make up his mind on whether to hail them or not, the door opens. He shoots underground without even taking the time to neaten the tile overhead first, which is sloppy of him, but given whose name he hears next, he decides it’s good he prioritized speed over stealth.

“Frisk,” he whispers, “why is your body moving?”

« _There’s a good reason for that._ »

“Are you gonna tell me?”

« _I’m sorry. I promised I wouldn’t._ »

“...Who did you promise?”

« _The person who’s using my body right now._ » They pause. « _Why don’t you talk to them? I think it’d do you both a lot of good._ »

Flowey doesn’t respond. In the silence that follows, they can both hear the conversation overhead. The voice is Frisk’s, but he knows that tone, that manner of speaking. He always thought he would feel something, and maybe he did last timeline, but now it’s like the void inside of him is yawning so wide it’s threatening to make him implode. He cautiously pokes his head up and sees the relief on their face when they talk to Sans, watches as Undyne carries them out on her back, observes how they cooperate with Alphys. He pulls himself back underground.

“Frisk?”

« _Mhm?_ »

“Why did you lie to me?”

« _...I’m sorry. When you assumed I wasn’t them, they asked me not to correct you._ »

The implications sicken him. Why would they bother? He noticed them all the way back at the beginning of the last timeline. They even spoke a little at the beginning of this one. Why would they suddenly decide to pretend like they were never here all along?

« _You should talk to them. You know I can’t speak for them._ »

This is rational. This is logical. Flowey nods once and pulls the jar a little closer. First, though, he follows the procession of monsters and, once they stop, peeks out again from underneath a bed to watch and listen. What he observes makes him draw certain conclusions.

He should probably hate Frisk for tricking him _again_ , but he finds it hard to when they agree so sincerely to help him split the group.

“At least _you’re_ on my side,” he murmurs, and pays it no mind when they don’t respond.

\---

Chara stares at Flowey. They know they should say something, but the lump in their throat keeps them from breathing right, let alone speaking. It seems like the longer it’s been since the last timeline, the harder it’s become for them to face him. Or maybe the longer they were with Frisk, the more ashamed they became of themselves and how they treated him. It’s all the same in the end. Isn’t it?

“What’s wrong, Chara?” Flowey presses. “It’s you, isn’t it? You were there all along.” He glances away, smile fading. “Boy, don’t I feel like an idiot now.”

« _Asriel? Are you okay?_ » says Frisk’s voice, startling Chara. It takes them a few seconds to realize that the SOUL itself is speaking. « _Please don’t be upset. Chara asked me not to tell you they were here, but that wasn’t because they don’t care about you._ »

“Frisk, don’t,” Chara rasps, trying not to wince. “You’ll give him the wrong idea.”

Flowey lifts his head. His expression is blank. “What’s the wrong idea?”

They don’t answer.

“What’s the wrong idea, Chara?” he repeats. “What wrong idea would I get?”

They glance over their shoulder, uncomfortable. Is anyone going to overhear this?

“Where are you looking, Chara? I’ve been calling you all this time. Why do you keep _ignoring_ me?”

Ignoring? They frown back at him. They haven’t been _ignoring_ \--well, it’s been a while, but--not since--it wasn’t _that_ long ago--and sure, they let him think they weren’t here, but...

They shuffle and glance away. They _have_ been ignoring him, haven’t they, and it _isn’t_ all the same in the end. The more emotionally capable Frisk became, the more they let (made) them deal with Asriel, because they didn’t want to face up to what they’d done to him. Or what they’d almost done.

“You’re... you’re not denying it. You mean... you really _have_ been ignoring me?” He wilts. “Why? How many times do I have to apologize before you’ll forgive me?”

“I don’t care about that,” they murmur, frustrated. Forgive _him_? After what they did to him? He’s already got the wrong idea. No, this is all going wrong. God, they just need Frisk back, then they can deal with this--

“What do you mean, you don’t care?” Flowey says, and he sounds upset. “I called you all this time, and you heard but you didn’t answer. Was it because you replaced me?”

They blink at him, uncomprehending.

“I saw how buddy-buddy you were with the trashbag.” He smiles again, this time bitter and hard. “You seriously _do_ like him better, don’t you? After everything I’ve done for you.”

They almost laugh. “What? That’s not--”

“Not _what_? Not true? Then why’d you let me think Frisk was the only one here? Why did you let _them_ take the fall for that? How much could you really care about either of us?”

Chara’s breath hitches.

« _You’re wrong, Asriel,_ » Frisk pipes up. « _It’s not as bad as it sounds. Chara, take a deep breath and tell him how you really feel, okay? All the things you told me?_ »

Easy for them to say. Chara knows exactly what Frisk means, but the words scatter and jumble in their mind. If it were easy to just say what truly lies in their heart, then none of this, _any_ of this, would have ever happened. Though, when they think of it like that, it becomes yet plainer that Frisk is right and they need to do this. They stare at Flowey, and he stares back. For a creature with no SOUL, he looks awfully unhappy, which just twists the knife. They clench their fists and take a deep breath that steadies them less than they’d hoped.

“Asriel,” they say shakily, “I--”

“HEY! Everything okay in here?” Undyne demands from behind them.

Chara rattles like a tea set in an earthquake. “Stay back!” they snap, mind already ablaze with scenarios where Undyne shoots magic spears first and asks questions later. “This is none of your business!”

“What?! I was just worried about you, punk--”

“U-um, is everything--” Alphys chimes in. She interrupts herself with a sharp intake of breath, and without looking behind, Chara is certain she’s noticed Flowey.

Which means there’s no time to talk before someone does something dire. Panic makes Chara hold a hand out to Flowey and demand, tight with tension, “Give me the SOUL. Now.”

He doesn’t immediately do as they say, which makes them want to scream with frustration. Instead, he coils backwards in an uncertain wobble, vines curling around Frisk’s jar. “Or you’ll do what?”

_Of all the times for you to decide to be DIFFICULT--!!_ Chara grits their teeth.

“Wait, is that a _human_ SOUL?” Undyne says from behind them. “Isn’t that _your_ SOUL??”

“Yes. It is. And he needs to give it back. _Now_ ,” Chara says, not taking their eyes off Flowey.

“It’s not YOURS,” Flowey retorts. “You just stole it.”

“Wait, what?” Undyne utters. Alphys shushes her.

« _That’s not true,_ » Frisk protests. « _They just borrowed it for a while._ »

“That’s right. Their SOUL belongs in their body. So give it _back_.”

Still he hesitates. Chara doesn’t understand why he has to do this to them. Does he hate them and Frisk so much? ( _Though,_ they think, _if he does hate me, it’d make sense._ ) The worst thing is that if Chara could just get Frisk back, could just reunite their body with their SOUL, they’re sure they could talk to Flowey--no, _Asriel_ normally. But the stakes are so high and their nerves are so keyed up and Asriel isn’t doing what he’s supposed to and Chara is two steps away from just freaking out.

“U-um, I hate to interrupt,” Alphys breathes, “but Sans isn’t, um, doing so well?”

One step. Chara stares at her, breath still.

“He isn’t responding at all and I’m really worried, um, I thought, um, since he brought you to me, you could... say something? To him??”

It’s amazing to Chara that Alphys can seem to completely ignore the mood of the room, but then, they know she’s good at lying to herself. It’s something they have in common. The implications of Sans’s state aren’t lost on them, and one of the last things they talked about bubbles back to mind.

“Papyrus,” they whisper.

Confusion clouds her face, and she and Undyne share an uncertain glance. Chara doesn’t care. Their experiences with Sans make one truth self-evident: Sans can tolerate anything as long as his brother is alive. The corollary is that, without his brother, Sans can’t handle anything. Whatever the third one did, it wasn’t death or Sans wouldn’t be clinging to them to help save him, but it might be close to the same thing if They could strike Papyrus from existence itself.

Chara’s feelings in regards to Papyrus aren’t very strong, but their feelings in regards to Frisk and Sans _are_ , and they both love Papyrus. If rejoining with Frisk means they’ll be able to do something about him, then it’s that much more important that they get Frisk back.

All in all, it’s just a lot of fancy self-justification to do something they’re already desperate for, but it gives them a momentary handle on themselves.

“I’m not going to say anything mean,” they tell Asriel. “Give me the SOUL. We’ll talk more later. For now, I have something important I need to take care of.”

Unfortunately, he nettles. “Later? What later? Why’s Smiley Trashbag more important to you than me? Why is ANYONE more important to you than me? I loved you more than anyone else! I gave up EVERYTHING for you! But you don’t even care!!”

“That’s not--look, stop arguing with me about this and give me the SOUL!”

“There! You see?! You don’t even TRY to make an excuse! You just want everything the way you want it, when you want it! You were ALWAYS like that!” he shouts, face twisting. “You never cared about what I wanted! You still don’t care! You _never_ cared!!”

“Stop it! Shut up!”

“No! Maybe _I_ don’t care about _you_! Maybe--maybe _I’ve_ got a _new_ best friend! Maybe _I_ think Frisk would be better off with me than a selfish jerk like _you_!!”

And Frisk says nothing to refute this--they just wobble into the back corner of their jar--and that stabs as deeply as Asriel’s accusations. They know they’ve been a bad friend, they know they’ve messed up time and time again, but they thought Frisk liked them anyway. Maybe now that Asriel’s laying down the truth in the plainest possible terms, Frisk is coming around and finding they agree they’ve had enough of Chara’s selfishness. It was their selfishness that got Asriel beaten to death; it was their selfishness that banished Frisk from their own body. Who wouldn’t hate them? Who wouldn’t want a better friend--someone genuine and kindhearted, like Frisk? Like Asriel, before Chara came along and ruined everything?

“What’s wrong with you?!” he shouts. “Say something! ANYTHING!”

They focus on the SOUL to let themselves cling to a fact and keep from crying: “Frisk, you need to go back to your own body. You know you do. Tell him to let you go.”

« _I-I, um..._ »

“Don’t talk to THEM, talk to ME! Why do you keep doing this to me, Chara? Do you hate me that much?”

Chara stares at him.

“Well, then FINE!” he yells. “Go ahead and hate me! I hate you right back! All of this is YOUR fault. I died because of YOU. I’m a stupid flower now because of YOU!”

“That’s right!” they shriek back, extremities shaking. “I MADE you. Everything you are now is just a cheap imitation of me!” They grip the knife as they advance a step. “But I know the _real_ you.” Another. And another, as they speak, until... “And let me just remind you: even like this, I’m still stronger than you. I’m still more _determined_ than you. I’m still MEANER than you.” They stab the ground next to Asriel, making him flinch. “And now I’ve had enough. GIVE. ME. THE SOUL.”

The fear on his face is terrible and Chara hates it more than anything, but they’re running out of options if they haven’t already. _Just give me the SOUL, Asriel,_ they beg silently. _Give it to me so Frisk can be safe, and then maybe we can start over--_

“Woah, what the hell?!” Undyne bellows while Alphys shrieks. “Kid, watch out!”

Chara doesn’t dare look away from Flowey, no matter what’s behind them, never mind that they hear the sizzle and buzz and metallic strike of Undyne’s spears at their back. The instant they feel something cold and dark seep up into them like poison gas, they immediately regret it.

Hello, Chara. Having Trouble? says the third one.

_No. Go away. You’re not welcome here._

You Don’t Need To Pretend To Threaten Him, You Know. There’s A Quicker Way Of Getting What You Want.

_Shut up! Leave me alone!_

Hesitate Any Longer And He’ll Attack. Kill Or Be Killed, Remember? He Learned That From You.

_Shut UP!_

Asriel flinches away, and Chara realizes too late that they said that last part out loud. Was it just that last part? They’re not sure. They can’t tell. They grab for Frisk’s jar, and just as the third one predicted, Asriel strikes them hard on the arm with a twisted-up vine.

Chara sees red.

Then they see black and white and a grid of green as their vision flickers and a familiar view arises.

_ [FIGHT] [ACT] [ITEM] [MERCY]

_No._

[FIGHT] _ [ACT] [ITEM] [MERCY]

_No no_ no no **no** _\--_

[ **FIGHT** ] [ACT] [ITEM] [MERCY]

Chara’s knife arm swings up and then down without any input from them. It’s a curious sensation; despite their total inability to control their (Frisk’s) own body, it’s like they’re watching themselves in slow motion from behind a TV or computer screen. They see the look on Aswey’s face. They see Frisk’s SOUL ram the side of the cracked jar. They see Flowriel pull it over the rest of the way. They see the knife impact the jar, see the spiderweb crack that crawls out from the point of impact. They see the new cracks met the old, they see the jar tremble. They see it shatter under the pressure of the vines gripping it, and see Frisk’s SOUL float up between them, shining pure and radiant.

Chara and Flowey meet each other’s eyes for a heartbeat.

Then Chara grabs for Frisk’s SOUL. They slow an instant when they realize the knife is still in their hand, and slow an instant longer when they realize that their arm actually responded to their will. In that pair of instants, Flowey stretches up and swallows the SOUL whole.

“NO!” they scream.

A thorned vine slashes the air at them, followed by a circle of bullet-seeds. They shove themselves away with their free hand and duck through the gap of bullets just in time.

[ **FIGHT** ] [ACT] [ITEM] [MERCY]

Chara’s arm lifts, and they smile like a skeleton. They catch sight of their reflection in the full-length mirrors, and something black and oily-looking is welling up in their eyes as they sweep a cut at their best friends.

Strange. They don’t feel a thing.

\---

“Sans! Sans, please, say something!” Papyrus begs, even as he knows his brother can’t possibly hear him. His hands go through Sans’s shoulders when he tries to shake him, and Sans doesn’t react to a single thing he says. He didn’t react to Undyne or Alphys either, though. He sits there, sockets dark, head slumped, dead to the world. Maybe literally; he looks like he’s half a step away from falling down.

“(Sans...)” Gaster murmurs.

Papyrus turns to him. “Dad!! You’ve got to help! Sans is in trouble!”

“(Sans has been in trouble for a long time. Though I admit, I am surprised how badly he is taking it now... He should know from his experience with me how thorough a graying-out is. Was it hope, or simply denial...? Regardless, I’m afraid there is nothing I can do.)”

“No!! That’s quitter talk! I can’t accept it! I won’t!” Papyrus insists, standing tall. “There _must_ be a way to get a message to him somehow! You tried with me! I won’t let him fall down!”

“(That was in a spatially distorted area, and even then I wasn’t able to communicate my message to you properly or in time,)” Gaster points out. “(To do anything at this point would require another spatial distortion, and _that_ would require--)”

A shadow flits along the ground and snakes into the hallway where everyone else is. It’s like watching a hole into deep space melt through solid steel. It seizes the attention of the two skeletons, but unlike last time, it’s gone before either can react.

“Wowie!! Speak of the Player!” Papyrus declares, brightening. “Dad, watch over Sans for me! I’ll be right back!!”

“(Papyrus, wait!)” Gaster shouts, but his son is already racing for the hallway. His mouth thins, and he swiftly follows.

\---

“Cut it the HELL out!!” Undyne snarls, a blue spear in each hand as she leaps between Chara and Flowey. One of those spears parries Chara’s knife, and the other blocks a ring of seed-bullets, and she spins and slashes in both directions to force them both back. “NOBODY’S fighting ANYBODY on MY watch!!” she adds, glaring at both of them. “Now YOU!” She points one spear at Chara, whose reflection doesn’t quite move in sync with them. “Put that freakin’ knife down! And YOU!” She points the other at Flowey, coiling in spirals on the other side of the hallway. “You better spit out my friend’s SOUL if you know what’s good for you!!”

“Shut up! This is between Chara and me!” he snaps. “You’ve got NOTHING to do with it, so BUTT OUT!”

Alphys, who ducked for cover under the table of potted flowers, holds her breath as she watches a row of vines stab down towards Undyne. Quick and fluid as river rapids, she blocks them with her spear, easily keeping up and standing her ground as the ensouled flower changes directions from left to right to up and down. At her back, Chara backs up another step, eyes glassy. There’s something mechanical about the way their wrist turns; Alphys would know, having designed and built a robot. For that same reason, when she sees the angle of the knife, she gasps loudly and scurries out from under cover to yank at Chara’s ankle before they can stab Undyne between the ribs.

The blow goes wide, and although Undyne isn’t expecting it, she manages to jump to one side and avoid it while still holding Flowey back. She half-turns, though, eyes going wide when she sees Chara stomp hard on Alphys’s hand. Alphys yelps and scrambles back, and Undyne rams the butt of her spear back at the kid.

“HEY! What d’you think you’re doing to Alphys?! Knock it off!” she demands.

But even as she speaks, they jerk their head to one side to avoid the strike. The magic pole scrapes along the very un-magic knife, and they hold the spear with one hand as they thrust themselves forward point-first, as it were.

“No!!” Alphys cries. Without allowing herself the time to think about what a bad idea it is, she tackles Chara around the waist. She’s not strong, but Chara isn’t heavy, and it’s enough to make the blade swing wide of its target as both of them thud against one of the full-length mirrors.

Chara stares at her. Their fingers are shaking, and they nearly drop the knife. She’s shaking too.

“I-I know you’re upset, Chara,” she rasps. “B-but please! C-calm down and p-put down the knife!”

“I need that SOUL back. And I’ll do anything to get it,” they reply flatly. But they don’t shove back at her.

“You can’t have it! It’s mine now!” Flowey snaps. “And I’m NEVER letting it go!!”

“NGAAHH! The heck you aren’t!!” Undyne roars.

But before she can shove a spear in his face, Chara slams a fist into the mirror behind them. “You’re not keeping Frisk’s SOUL,” they announce with deadly calm.

Behind them, their reflection shimmers, then reflects not Frisk’s body but their own, brightly smiling, void-eyed. Their true self, maybe.

That Asriel Is Such A Troublemaker, the reflection says. Don’t You Agree?

_Stay out of this._

Haha! Chara, You’re Such A Comedian. But Seriously, Everything Would Go Smoothly If He Just Disappeared, Don’t You Think?

_Stay out of this!_

“It’s too late for that!” Flowey snarls in a coincidence of timing.

His vines seethe up from the floor and rings of bullets materialize around Chara, Undyne, and Alphys. Undyne curses and leaps around hers, tackling Alphys away to safety in the process. They roll together under the table, and Alphys scrabbles her head out.

“Look out!!” she shouts, too late.

The seed-bullets impact on Frisk’s body. Chara screams and staggers, hand squeaking along the mirror as they sag. Their reflection sags with them, but unlike them, it’s smiling. Undyne launches herself forward and immediately headbutts a criss-cross of vines that trap her and Alphys under the table. Alphys’s gasp of “My samples!!” makes her hesitate when she would have otherwise smashed her way through.

“Th-there! Y-you see?” Flowriel declares, nerves betraying his would-be triumphant tone as he ignores the two monsters in favor of the fallen human. “I-I don’t need you, Chara! Frisk is the friend I always wished I had! And we’re going to be together forever!”

The heart-shaped locket swings through the empty air from Chara’s neck. They grip it with their free hand and tug it hard enough that they can feel its engraved letters.

“Any last words?” Flowey taunts them, grin fixed in place. A dozen vines point with deadly intent down at them, but they shiver and quiver like a little tree.

Chara stares up at him blankly. It’s hard to think right now. Their knife hand twitches, and their grip tightens around the weapon.

‘Best Friends Forever.’ What A Farce, their reflection says. Tears of oil drip down its rosy cheeks. Nothing _Ever_ Lasts Forever, Chara. Take It From Me: There’s No Such Thing As Something Eternal.

Chara’s gaze flickers. There’s something on the other side of the mirror, past their reflection. It’s waving...

“Come on. Say something!” Flowey demands.

You Want To Erase Everything That Hurts. So Do I, their reflection says. This Is Why I Have Guided You This Far. I Can Erase All The Pain If You Just Do As I Say.

Their hand twitches again. The figure in the mirror is hurrying over to their side.

Asriel Has Hurt Us Both One Too Many Times. It’s Time To Erase Him, Yes/Yes?

“Chara?” Flowey says, frowning. “Chara? Are you listening to me?”

Their hand lifts. _You can do that?_

Of Course! You Already Know I Can Crack Open Reality. It’s A Different Application Of The Same Power. No Need To Worry; It Will All Be Over Soon.

“H-hey, what are you--”

Their vision blurs a little, then focuses on the figure now just over their shoulder in the mirror-world. _Yes,_ they agree as darkness smokes up around their arm. _For you._

Then, before the third one can react, they thrust their hand through a now-liquid mirror and grab Papyrus’s wrist.

\---

It’s funny, really. Sans should’ve known better than to get his hopes up. Every time he lets himself hope, it just hurts worse afterwards. Haha, he must have been pretty desperate to delude himself even for a little while that he could save Papyrus, that he wasn’t really _erased_ -erased. Sans couldn’t save Gaster, after all. When Alphys had stared blankly at him and asked who Dr. Gaster was, when Papyrus had scratched his head and looked befuddled, he’d known deep down it was hopeless, but back then he couldn’t bring himself to give up just yet. He’d strung himself along a while thanks to Frisk and Chara and Flowey, but now that Undyne and Alphys have forgotten Papyrus...

Haha. Well. He’s read the writing on the walls long enough to recognize Wingdings when he sees it. Eventually. If Gaster’s paying attention, he must be shaking his head in disappointment... or maybe he’s too used to his son’s failures to even bother.

So enough already. It was easier when he didn’t care about almost anything. It’ll be easier yet if he stops caring about anything at all. He stares into space as he full-body sags, unresponsive to outside stimuli. The last he’d acknowledged was Undyne’s ‘Who’s Papyrus?’ and, well, she’s not exactly the type to joke about something like that. Not that it matters anym--

A jolt in reality rattles his bones. Sans lifts his head and stares at the eastern hallway.

\---

Stop! the third one shouts. You Don’t Know The Consequences Of What You’re Doing!

They’ve got some nerve, talking about consequences. Chara braces themselves against the frame and yanks harder. _Oh, and you do?_

\---

Papyrus had been in the middle of reaching out to clasp Chara’s shoulder and ask the Player inside them for a word when a hand had reached out of the mirror and grabbed his wrist.

“AAAAAAAAAH,” he screams, more out of surprise than anything else, as it pulls him forward. The world around him turns gray and still, while the surface of the mirror ripples like a disturbed pond. He struggles for an second until he recognizes the hand as the small, tan, fleshy one of the human.

“(Incredible,)” Gaster utters behind him. “(Is Chara truly trying to pull you back?)”

“Oh!!” he utters. He leans forward, but the resistance increases sharply, as if the now-shimmering, undulating surface of the mirror were made of molasses. This doesn’t discourage Papyrus in the slightest, who merely redoubles his efforts to reach out to the other side. With his other hand, he reaches out to Gaster.

“Come with me, Dad!” he calls. “Let’s go back together!”

Gaster’s eyes widen, and he hesitates.

\---

Sans stands at the mouth of the hallway. He knows better than to hope, but he can’t help it--when he felt that shift in reality, he knew there was one thing it could be. His poor judgment proves surprisingly sound when his eyes rest on a bizarre tableau: Undyne and Alphys trapped by a vine trellis under a table of potted flowers, Flowey taking up most of the hallway with roots that extend all throughout it thanks to the pulse of Frisk’s SOUL, and Chara pulling from a rippling mirror a familiar arm.

“Papyrus!” he shouts. He’s at their side in an instant and reaches his hand grip Papyrus’s familiar red glove. Chara glances at him in surprise but reacts only by maintaining their effort. Together, they pull, and another inch or two of bone reveals itself.

Undyne’s eyes widen as she watches. “Pa... pyrus?” She shoots a look down at Alphys, who returns it with the same gawk of understanding. How could she have ever forgotten?!

“Wh-what are you’re doing?! What good is this going to do?!” Flowey demands above them. “Idiots!! You can’t even defend yourselves right now! I’ll teach you to be stupid!!”

He has a point. When he hurls down a pair of sharp-tipped roots towards Chara and Sans, there’s nothing they can do to defend themselves. Both of them flinch and tense, nearly losing Papyrus in the process, but the roots never impale them. With a loud crash, they rebound off a pair of glowing blue spears that had burst up from the floor just in the nick of time.

“I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but I do know one thing!” Undyne shouts from under the table as light glows again from the floor. “You aren’t gonna hurt my friends on my watch! Undyne is gonna make you unDONE!”

“ _Ugh_!” Flowey growls, winding his body around. “Just shut up and die, you dumb fish!” Volleys of stabbing vines shoot forward.

If Undyne had hesitated before to damage the potted plants, she doesn’t now; she grabs one end of the table and yanks it down, sending flowers crashing everywhere. The vines impact all the same, shattering wood, but past it, they only cut into the floor. Above, Undyne leaps into the air, cradling Alphys in one arm and wielding a magic spear in the other. With a ferocious roar, she slashes forward, cutting the trellis vines and opening a path forward. She lands with a solid STOMP, then lets Alphys go.

“I’ll take care of this overgrown weed! You go help Sans and the human with whatever nerd crap they’re doing to help Papyrus!” she tells her, pushing her gently forward.

Undyne then swipes her spear at Flowey. He rears back to avoid it, but not quickly enough: the SOUL within him turns green. He snarls, but he’s got no choice to go on the defensive, snapping vines left and right and up and down to block a deluge of arrow-lances.

Alphys meanwhile nods vigorously at her girlfriend, then rushes over to Sans and Chara. Once there, she dithers for a second before squeezing in at the far left and reaching in to grab at Papyrus’s hand. The three of them share a swift glance, then _pull_.

\---

On the other side of the mirror, Papyrus inches steadily forward. His chest and one leg ooze through the liquid glass, and his other hand remains stretched out towards Gaster. “Dad! What are you waiting for!!”

Gaster’s crescent mouth wanes into a sliver; then he takes Papyrus’s hand and surges forward. 

\---

“What’s the hold-up back there?!” Undyne demands, tanking a slam from Flowey’s tendrils, both hands holding a spear parallel to the ground.

Chara doesn’t respond, focusing as they are on keeping the powers they’ve usurped in check, but they grit their teeth and eyeball Sans and Alphys. Both of them are a pleasant surprise. This is difficult to manage on their own. They’d just channeled the third one’s powers towards pulling Papyrus back into reality to fulfill their promise, but if Sans is here, he might be able to help get Frisk back. This is going better than they’d hoped.

Or so they think until darkness crackles around them. They cry out sharply, and the mirror clouds and turns noxious colors while Papyrus is halfway out of it. All four of them shout in surprise as they’re sucked backwards, and the reflection bubbles enough to show Gaster over Papyrus’s shoulder, looking as surprised as they are.

“Gaster?” Sans gasps.

“Brother! Help me pull him out too!” Papyrus says.

He doesn’t need to ask twice. Sans nearly throws himself into the mirror to extend his other hand towards the taller skeleton. Next to him, Alphys blanches.

“D-Dr. Gaster?” she breathes. “Oh... oh my god! Oh my _god_! How could I have forgotten...?!” And then she reaches her other arm out too.

Chara grits their teeth, pulling hard and panting. The floor feels like it’s beginning to melt under their feet, and their head pounds like a drum festival. Sweat puddles in oily black circles on their shirt.

“Gaster! I’ve got you this time! Come through!” Sans shouts, too focused to notice.

“Let’s all go home together!” Papyrus shouts, twisting around to pull him along.

“Th-this phenomenon can’t possibly be stable! Please hurry!” Alphys insists.

But Gaster’s gaze isn’t on them; it’s on Chara. He gasps as his non-ruined eye widens, then deflates. His mouth wanes to a sliver, then waxes ruefully. He turns his smile to Papyrus, to Sans, to Alphys, and oozes back while pushing forward.

Papyrus lands in a heap on top of Sans and Alphys, while Chara, who was angled away from the others, staggers back a couple of steps but manages to avoid going down. All of them stare at the monster whose image remains in the liquid shimmer of the mirror, but Sans jerks upright hard.

“(I am sorry to vex your efforts, but time, as ever, is against us. Here I must remain, on the other side of the looking-glass,)” he murmurs. As the shimmering evens out, his voice fades: “(Sans, it wasn’t your fault. Papyrus, I’m proud of you. Alphys, you’ve done well. Good-bye.)”

“Gaster! GASTER!” Sans shouts, but by the time he extricates himself from Papyrus and rushes to the mirror, it’s already gone flat. The only thing still reflected there are those who exist in proper reality.

His hands curl, and he leans his head forward, skull bumping the smooth glass. When Papyrus touches his shoulders, he looks up to see his brother’s smile, then throws his arms around him. Papyrus returns the hug tenderly. Meanwhile, Alphys staggers up to her feet. Undyne leaps over to catch her when she nearly tumbles, and Flowey’s green SOUL turns red again.

“Ugh, _gag_ me,” he sneers as he flexes his vines. “How lame can you get?”

Chara, bent in half to catch their breath, straightens up to send him a flat stare. “He was just trying to reclaim what he lost. I know you know how that feels.”

Flowey flinches, grimacing. “Sh-shut up! Why do you have to help _him_ , anyway?!”

A sickle smile slashes up their cheeks as they think of the third one. “Spite.” They take a deep breath and square their shoulders. All right. After a show of power like that, this bluff has _got_ to work. They point the worn dagger, perfect for cutting plants and vines, at Flowey. “This is your last chance. You’re outnumbered and outmaneuvered. _Give. Me. The SOUL._ ”

His eyes dart from Chara to Undyne and Sans and Papyrus and Alphys behind them, and as the monsters all stand up and pin grim stares onto him, understanding visibly dawns on him. Although he says nothing, the way he rears back, tendrils looping defensively in front of him, tells Chara everything they need to know.

It’s ironic that they expended so much effort to thwart the third one’s attempts at erasure only to end up with their own hand forced, but maybe, with this much force on their side, they can capture rather than kill Flowey and make him spit up Frisk’s SOUL. They hesitate, then thrust themselves forward.

But as they lunge, the world suddenly turns lopsided, and their entire body jangles like a crystal glass struck with a tuning fork. They slam to the ground, mind reeling, every inch of them trembling. They can’t even feel if they’re still holding the knife anymore. They see Flowey gawk down at them, hear the others shout and crowd around them, but--why? What just _happened_?

I Told You To Stop, the third one says, sounding amused. I Told You You Didn’t Know The Consequences Of What You Were Doing. Now Was I Right, Or Was I Right?

Chara shudders and jitters a little more. Their fingers won’t respond.

Above them, Flowey breaks into a loud, echoing cackle. “Wow! You sure look pathetic, Chara! And here I was almost worried for a second!” he jeers. “I’d finish you off, but I’m not really up for a crowd. Our final showdown as ex-best friends should be more _personal_!”

They can’t tell if they’ve managed to move their head or not. Their vision swims heavily, making Flowey’s many vines and thorns criss-cross at a ninety-degree angle.

He smiles at them sunnily. “So let’s settle this where it all began. I’ll be waiting~!”

A ground-wards rush of motion later, and he--and with him, Frisk’s SOUL--is gone. Chara wants to scream, to beg him to come back, but their mouth isn’t working right. They feel someone lift them into the air and hear a stream of meaningless babble, and they swoon. Oblivion folds over their consciousness an instant later.

\---

The sounds of familiar voices swim in and out like a distant tide. Chara’s eyelids feel like granite, and the rhythm in which they’re carried is smooth, but something tugs their consciousness out of slumber. They stir a little, unable to suppress a groan. Their carrier stops, and the voices reduce to hushed whispers.

“Hey!” says Undyne’s voice from very closeby. “You awake, punk?”

Chara blinks blearily, then jerks their head away when they realize her face is half an inch from theirs. That wakes them up enough to realize that she’s carrying them on her back, their arms draped over her shoulders. They rear back and nearly fall off, but she leans forward and they slump against her instead. The motion, slight as it was, leaves them dizzy and mildly nauseous, and their limbs quiver like a Moldsmal.

“Looks like a ‘yes,’” Sans remarks from somewhere nearby.

“Oh goodie!! I’m glad you’re all right!” Papyrus agrees from next to him.

“U-um, yes. A-are, um, _are_ you feeling okay...?” Alphys quivers from their other side.

“Nnnuh,” they mumble, which would have been a ‘no’ were their vocal chords working correctly.

“L-let’s get them back upstairs. I-I don’t know w-what I can do for them, but I...”

Her voice recedes into the white noise of the ocean roar in their ears. Chara slumps a little harder on Undyne’s back as the tide rips awareness from their grasp. They shut their eyes and let it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nothing _Ever_ Lasts Forever, Chara. Take It From Me: There’s No Such Thing As Something Eternal." The Player is both referencing the song _Everybody Wants to Rule the World_ by Tears for Fears, and quoting Utena Tenjou from _Revolutionary Girl Utena_.


	25. We're Not Done Yet

By the time Undyne and the others reach the regular lab, Chara has passed out again. Alphys notes that it’s a good sign that they woke up again at all, but still asks Undyne to keep an eye on them once they all lay the child out on her pull-out box bed. After Alphys sets up a device to monitor their health and take a few initial readings on automatic, just to make sure they aren’t going to drop dead--and if they come in danger of that, will beep loudly to alert everyone--Undyne volunteers to make everyone a cup of tea, too. Since the amalgamates had come up with everyone, there’s quite a bit of tea to be made, and Alphys gratefully takes her up on her suggestion. Papyrus helps wrangle the amalgamates, and Sans hangs out with her as emotional support as she makes the necessary calls. Truth or no truth, talking on the phone is still hard for Alphys.

But before everyone can go home, there’s much the four of them have to discuss.

“Okay,” Alphys utters, breathing out a sigh as she hangs up on the last call, this one to Asgore. “That’s all done, then.”

“You did great, Alph,” Sans tells her, hands in his pockets. “Tomorrow’s going to be a hell of a day in the Underground.”

“Y-yeah, no kidding,” she says with a nervous laugh. “But we’re not done yet.”

Her gaze turns towards the up escalator, and his follows. The health reader hasn’t beeped and Undyne hasn’t hollered, so no news is good news, but they both know that’s no cause to celebrate or breathe easy.

“So what do you think’s going on?” Sans asks.

“I have a couple of thoughts, but... let me get some more data before I share them.” She meets his eyes, mouth pursed. “How about you? Are you doing okay? You just kind of... shut down for a while there.”

“Oh, yeah.” He rubs the back of his head and glances over at Papyrus. “Sorry about worrying you. I’ll be fine now.”

Fine for Sans, anyway, as both of them implicitly understand. “About Dr. Gaster...”

“You still remember him?”

“Y-yeah. Well, my memories _are_ a little hazy, but... I remember being his protégée, and all of us working together...”

Maybe it’s her imagination, but Sans looks a little happier at that. Papyrus picks that moment to approach, waving jauntily at Endogeny as they gnaw on some bones before he faces the two of them.

“All right, everyone’s settled in!!” he declares. “What do you need me to do next, Dr. Alphys?”

“Oh, um, actually, there were some questions that I wanted to ask you. I bet Sans does, too,” Alphys replies, glancing over at the other skeleton. “About the mirror, and Dr. Gaster?”

“I heard you got trapped behind a gray door, bro,” Sans adds. “What’s up with that?”

“Ah, yes!! Let me tell you about my adventure...”

And so Sans and Alphys listen as Papyrus describes how the door had slammed shut on him and the room had come apart, about how Gaster had saved him, and what the two discussed about the Player and her schemes, particularly as regards Chara and the human.

“Frisk,” Sans cuts in at that point.

“Sorry??”

“That’s their name. Chara told me.”

“S-so you knew the whole time who they really were,” Alphys remarks. It’s not a question.

“Well, I knew they aren’t the human we all know and love. Beyond that...”

She purses her lips and nods once. “Fair.” She looks back at Papyrus. “Sorry. Keep going.”

So he goes on about Gaster’s low opinion of the Player and the incident in the Waterfall corridor, of teleporting to the true lab and watching Chara’s memories with “that tiny clone of Asgore!” as Papyrus cheerfully puts it, of his fear when Sans had been about to fall down, and finally how he’d tried to entreat the Player for her help and had instead gotten grabbed by Chara.

“And the rest, you guys know,” he concludes. He glances down, his usual grin drooping. “And about how, you know... we couldn’t get Dad out.”

Sans glances away. “...Yeah.”

Alphys nods once gloomily. “I don’t think that could have been helped, though,” she says. When the skeleton brothers stare at her, she blushes and adds, “I-I mean, I think he got before any of us that what we were doing was hurting Chara’s, or rather, Frisk’s body. They’re in bad shape as is... I’m willing to bet that if we’d committed to saving Dr. Gaster, it would have ended up killing them.”

“Dad...” Papyrus murmurs.

“You’re probably right,” Sans admits. “But... well... that doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It’s okay!” Papyrus’s grin revives. “Dad might still be stuck in Nowheresland, but at least we all remember him now! And I know I wouldn’t be happy if Dad got saved only for someone else to end up dying!! I think Dad wouldn’t be either!” His eyes droop. “...He didn’t think I could escape, you know. Maybe he thought... as long as I got back, that’d be enough.”

“That’s probably the best thing he could’ve done for Sans, yeah,” Alphys agrees.

Sans shuffles his feet for a few seconds. Then, not quite looking directly at Papyrus, he asks, “Hey, bro... did... did Dad say anything about me?”

“Huh? Hmm... now that I think about it, no. I’m sorry. Everything happened so fast.”

“Oh.”

“B-but you heard him just before he vanished! He talked to you first. I’m sure he’s been thinking about you a lot, Sans!”

_It wasn’t your fault._ “...Yeah.”

“And hey, maybe we can’t see or hear him anymore, but I’m sure he’s watching over us like we were over you when you came to save Flowey and the hu--I mean, Frisk! When you think about it like that, Dad’s not _really_ gone. And he never has been!”

(Gaster, who stands next to his sons, smiles a little and bows his head.)

Sans’s expression softens. “...Heh, true. Thanks, Papyrus.”

He beams at his brother, then at Alphys. “That goes for you, too, Doctor! You might’ve melted a whole bunch of monsters together (and that’s admittedly super-weird), but you’ve still made a lot of cool stuff that made people’s lives better, and Dad knows it!”

She blushes. “Y-you think so?”

“I know so! You heard what he told you, right?”

_You’ve done well._ “...Y-yeah. Hehe. Yeah, you’re right. That makes me feel a little better about all this.”

“What about you, bro?” Sans asks. “You finally reunited with Dad, and you’ve already been literally torn apart. How’re you holding up?”

“I’m fine! I’m not worried, and I’m not sad!” Well--maybe a little worried and sad, he doesn’t admit. He doesn’t want to worry them. But: “I already know he’s proud of me!”

“Gosh. I wish I could be as optimistic as you,” Alphys says.

“It’s easy!! All you have to do is be the greatest, and never ever forget how great you are! And since you’re the greatest scientist, that should be a cinch!! Nyeh heh heh heh heh!”

Sans laughs while Alphys blushes and stammers with a smile. “You really are the coolest, Papyrus.”

“NO WAY, I’M THE COOLEST!!” Undyne roars from out of nowhere, making all three jump. She peers at them when they crash. “Uh, what’re we talking about?”

“O-oh, Undyne, you’re back!” Alphys gasps, clutching her chest. “W-we were just discussing Dr. Gaster...”

“Dr. Who??”

“Gaster. W. D. Gaster? Y-you know, the Royal Scientist before me?”

Undyne stares at her. “There was a Royal Scientist before you??”

“Don’t worry about it, Alph,” Sans remarks as Alphys hesitates. “This is just how it is.”

“How what is?” Undyne asks.

“Eh, nothing important. Just nerd talk. Hey, is that tea for us?”

“Yup!! Drink up, nerds!”

“You’re pretty good at that,” Alphys observes as they each accept their drinks.

“Comes from years of practice,” he replies.

“Good at what?” Undyne asks.

“Holding tea cups,” Sans lies. “How’s the kid?”

“Ugh... Honestly, I’m not sure. They’re still breathing and they seem to be doing okay? But... I dunno. They’ve been acting weird all day,” Undyne replies, settling down to sit cross-legged on the floor. “This is just the cherry on top.”

“Oh, that’s because they’re not the human you’re used to knowing,” Alphys says, carefully kneeling down along with Sans and Papyrus. “Um, I didn’t get the chance to tell you before, but... they’re Chara.”

“Wait, _what_? As in THE Chara? As in Asgore’s human kid??”

“Asgore had a human kid??” Papyrus echoes.

“Yeah, they fell down ages ago like the human did,” Undyne replies. She then launches into a basic explanation of Chara’s history with the monsters, concluding with, “But it turned out they didn’t get sick, they poisoned themselves. Either way, they died a long time ago, so how can the kid be Chara?”

“I-I don’t really know,” Alphys says, watching Sans, who stares off into space. “But they are. I’m... I’m pretty sure of it? They mentioned Asriel before we ever watched those videos...”

“Dr. Alphys is right, as always!” Papyrus declares. “I don’t know how it works either, but Dad showed me some of Chara’s memories, so I know it’s true!”

“O-oh!” Alphys utters, blinking rapidly. “Oh, wow... Th-thanks, Papyrus.”

“So when was that?” Sans wonders as Papyrus cackles with satisfied glee. “When they mentioned Asriel, I mean.”

“Oh, um...” Alphys explains the incident in the flowerpot hall, still watching Sans; she takes the time to also fill in Undyne on some of what she missed in the previous conversation, including Frisk’s name. Her diligence is rewarded when he startles and stares at her.

“Wait. Are you trying to imply that Asriel is the vessel you tried to make?” he says.

“T-technically, Chara made that implication, not me... Why?”

“...Nothing. Just that this explains a lot.” He pauses. “What’s that look for?”

“So when are YOU going to explain what you know?” Alphys says pointedly.

“Hey, yeah! You were looking for the human’s SOUL, right? How’d you end up getting roped into that?” Undyne asks.

“Hmmm... When you were asleep on the stairs... Chara wasn’t upstairs, by any chance, were they?” Papyrus wonders.

“You saw right through me, bro,” Sans says, winking at him. “Yeah, you’re right. I, uh, kind of just stumbled across them and brought ‘em back to our place. Then they woke up and wouldn’t you know it, it was the wrong kid. Once we got the misunderstanding straightened out, we talked a bunch and I agreed to help ‘em recover Frisk’s SOUL.” He drains the teacup and sets it down on the floor. “...Wish I’d done a better job of it.” He pauses. “Something on your mind, Undyne? You’ve been scowling for a while.”

“I’m not _scowling_ , I’m just...” Undyne makes a face, arms folded. “I said some pretty rotten things about Chara while we were watching those videos. I kind of assumed that they were just another lousy human after all. And the human freaked out! I didn’t realize it was because they _were_ Chara. I feel pretty bad about that now.”

“Really? Why?” says Sans.

“‘Cuz they’re awesome, duh!!” Undyne crows. “If it weren’t for them, Alphys and me would never have hooked up! _And_ they saved Papyrus! It’s still messed up that they tried to make a kid kill, but thinking about it, they were just a kid too. And what else would you need six human SOULs for if you didn’t want to use them and your own SOUL to break the barrier? So now I think I judged ‘em too fast. Maybe they’re some kinda weirdo, but hell, aren’t we all?!”

“ _I’m_ not!” Papyrus protests. “Papyrus is charming and normal in all things!”

“Hey, how am _I_ weird?” Sans asks.

“You chug ketchup straight from the bottle!! Don’t try to play innocent with me!”

“She has a point,” Alphys chimes in, smirking.

Sans scoffs. “Everyone’s a critic.”

“But anyway,” Undyne continues, “I don’t really get that kid, but... I want to give ‘em another chance. See what they have to say for themselves before I go sock ‘em one.”

“S-so you don’t mind that they almost stabbed you?” Alphys wonders.

“Wait, what? When did they try to stab me??”

“Um. During the fight? When you got between them and the flower? I-I, um, I tackled them to keep them from doing it...”

“Ohhh, so THAT’S what you were doing! Seriously, don’t jump into a fight like that again, Alphys. You nearly scared the piss out of me.”

“Ew!! Incontinence is _so_ unglamorous!” Papyrus declares.

“Since when do you care about glamour?!” Undyne demands.

“Mettaton cares about glamour!”

“Since when do I care about Mettaton?!”

“U-um! I think! Something! Was wrong with them!” Alphys interrupts. “Undyne, d-do you remember that weird shadow that shot over to them?”

“Oh, yeah, that happened, didn’t it?” She folds her arms. “It kinda went into them or something.”

“It went _into_ them?” Sans echoes, an uncharacteristic sharpness to his tone.

“Oh, that was the Player,” Papyrus says, waving a dismissive hand. “She tried to do that earlier in the freezer room, but Dad hit her with a magic attack before she could get close to Chara.” He plants his fists on his hips, indignant. “ _Rude_!!” A pause. “Sans, are you okay??”

“Just fine, bro,” Sans replies, eye sockets dark.

Papyrus and Undyne both give him quizzical looks, but Alphys bites her lower lip hard.

“S-so, um,” she says, “I-I’m worried about their well-being... What happened almost definitely took a serious psychological as well as physical toll on them.”

“Not to worry! I shall woo them back to mental wellness with my rippling musculature as I befriend the Player out of her petty cruelty!” Papyrus declares, flexing a humerus.

“Let’s maybe not try to talk to Chara about the Player right away, Papyrus,” Sans suggests. “It might be, uh... stressful.”

“Hmm... I suppose you’re right,” he admits. “There will be other opportunities!”

Alphys ducks her head for a moment. When she looks up again, her smile is pained. “I-I agree. I know Chara’s maybe not the nicest person, a-and I know I’m just speaking for myself, b-but... they kind of remind me of, um, myself. And, um... that probably doesn’t say a lot of good things about them, but... if I want to forgive myself and turn my life around, I ought to treat someone like me with the same kindness, right?”

Undyne blinks at her. Then she nods thoughtfully. “Huh... Yeah!” She grins and slaps Alphys on the back, nearly bowling her off her tail. “Attagirl, Alphys!! You’re a real inspiration!”

She blushes, a goofy grin spreading like a sunrise glow across her face. She and Undyne lean in together for a cuddle, and the skeleton brothers share a knowing smile.

“Oh!!” Papyrus utters, hitting his palm with a fist. “I just realized something!!”

“What’s up, bro?”

“Flowey made this remark today about the human--Frisk, I mean--that it was good they were much chattier before! But he and Frisk acted like they’d never met before! But if that were true! How could he have known that they were chattier compared to before??”

“Th-that’s a good point,” Alphys says. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“I got the impression from Chara that they’d seen that flower around,” says Sans. “Enough to know who he really is, at the least.”

“Why would they lie about that, though??” Papyrus wonders. He frowns severely. “Especially to me, their cool friend!!”

“Good question. You’d have to ask ‘em, I bet,” says Sans.

“Good idea!! I’ll do exactly that once we get Flowey to give Frisk’s SOUL back!”

“Uh... do you really think he’s going to just give it back?” Alphys says, blinking.

“Of course!! I’m sure this is all just a big misunderstanding, just like with Dad and Frisk!” Papyrus says brightly. “We all just need to talk it out! And then possibly hug it out!!”

“Hell yeah! I’m a great hugger!” Undyne declares. “I’ll hug all of you straight into the ground!!”

“Uh... I think that’s called suplexing,” says Sans.

“Please don’t suplex the skeleton,” Papyrus pleads.

“Weenies,” Undyne grumbles.

A loud beep ringing from upstairs draws everyone’s attention then. The various amalgamates lift their heads, some plural, as well.

“Th-that means the automatic scanner is done,” Alphys explains, wobbling up to her feet. “I’ll have to analyze the data and run some more tests, possibly... It might take a while.”

“Not to worry! Your lovely girlfriend, Undyne, will keep you company!” Papyrus declares cheerfully with an audible wink.

Undyne blushes, then grins a wide grin full of teeth and hooks an arm around his shoulders. “Fuhuhuhu! And so will the great Papyrus! C’mon, nerd! Let’s settle who’s the human’s bestest friend, once and for all!”

“Wait, but Chara is a totally different human from Frisk?”

“THEY’RE STILL A HUMAN!!”

Sans chuckles as Undyne all but drags Papyrus upstairs, then turns to Alphys. “Welp, guess it’s your time to shine.”

“Y-yeah. I’ll do my best.” She pauses. “Um... Sans?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s more about Chara, Frisk, and Asriel that you aren’t telling us, isn’t there?”

“What makes you say that?”

Alphys shoots him a flat stare. He chuckles wryly but still only shrugs instead of responding.

“You don’t have to keep everything to yourself, Sans,” she murmurs, frown turning concerned. “We’re all your friends, and we’re here for you. If there’s something you’re holding back for personal reasons...”

“Heh... Sorry. Old habits die hard. I’m not really ready to explain, though.”

Alphys peers at Sans. Then she leans back and nods once. “...Okay. But, um, whenever you are... I’d be happy to lend an ear. Maybe we can figure it out together? Like we used to?”

His usual smile crinkles with sincerity. “That’d be nice.” He looks up. “But for right now, the kid needs looking after.”

No argument from her there. Together, they head up to join Papyrus and Undyne. Alphys settles in at her work desk to run tests and analyze the data she receives on the human’s condition, and the others sit around their bedside to watch over them.

\---

When Chara wakes up again, they’re lying on a bed they don’t know. Soft chuffing noises invade their ears, and they can tilt their head enough to catch sight of Alphys’s work desk, at which Alphys is seated, and that weird machine that makes the pink goo. Oh. They must be lying on her pull-out bed... They try to sit up, but they only manage to rise a couple of inches before they collapse, panting and in a cold sweat. Their gaze sweeps across Undyne, Papyrus, and Sans as they drop, and the first two get to their feet.

“Hey! You’re awake again!” Undyne says. Her grin fades quickly. “You don’t look so hot. You gonna be okay?”

“Would you like something to drink?” Papyrus suggests. “Oh, if you’re hungry, Undyne and I could make you a piping plate of spaghetti!”

“If they’re sick, solids might not be a great idea, bro,” Sans intercedes. His eyelights flick to Chara’s face. “Might be better to keep it simple, like hot tea and dry toast.”

“I’m on it!!” Undyne declares before Chara can say anything, then vaults downstairs.

They blink slowly over at Papyrus, who watches them with bright eyes, and Sans, whose expression is unreadable. Alphys’s back is to them and she seems hard at work on some device. They decide to settle their gaze on Papyrus.

“Hi,” they croak.

“Hello!!” he declares. “It’s nice to finally meet you properly, Chara! Thank you for always looking after my excellent friend, Frisk! And thank you for saving me!!”

Shock jolts through them. Oh. Everyone must have had a long discussion while they were out. Still, they’re too exhausted to care about that. The irony of Papyrus thanking them for anything takes a somewhat higher precedence. _I still believe in you,_ he’d said last timeline. _I know you can do better._

They’re not sure if he was wrong or right.

“Sure,” they reply.

“I’m sorry you and Flowey had a fight,” he contines. “Flowey has always been a very kind friend to me, and I hate to see my friends not getting along!!” He poses dramatically. “‘But wait!’ you may be thinking! ‘You and I are not yet friends, Papyrus!’ Fear not!! The great Papyrus has a heart as wide as the sea and twice as deep! Therefore, the friend of a friend is also my friend! And you’re the friend of _two_ of my friends, so there!! Nyeh heh heh heh!”

Chara _had_ been wondering about that. They smile a little despite everything. “Thanks.”

He beams at them. “So don’t worry!! I’m sure everything will work out fine! Just tell Flowey that you’re sorry for trying to stab him and I’m sure he’ll forgive you!”

Chara’s smile strains. “Mmh.”

“So hey,” Sans cuts in with excellent timing, “I wanted to thank you, too. You helped save Papyrus, just like you said you would. That means a lot to me.”

They slide their eyes his way. 

“So, uh...” He glances away and slides a hand over his scalp. “Thanks. I was wrong about you, Chara. You’re a better person than I thought you were.”

“There!! That was easy, wasn’t it??” Papyrus declares, hands on his hips.

Sans elbows him, grin affectionate. “Aw, shut it.”

Chara stares at them both in a mild daze. They should be happy about this, so why aren’t they? The wisp of amusement that curls up inside them--amusement that doesn’t belong to them--gives them a clue.

_What’s so funny?_ they demand of the third one.

Sans Certainly Seems To Like You Now. You’re Practically Friends Now, Just Like You Wanted. Wasn’t It Good That You Were Able To Save Papyrus?

_...What are You trying to imply?_

You Said Before That You Wished Frisk’s Friends Could Be Your Friends.

A pit of ice freezes in Chara’s gut. _Did... did You orchestrate this?_

And If I Did?

_How? Why?_

“How” Is My Little Secret. As For Why... Didn’t I Tell You Before? Because It Would Be Interesting! What Other Reason Is There?

_Shut up! Don’t give me that! You gain nothing if Sans or anybody likes me!_

That’s Patently Untrue, But You Can Believe What You Like. I’ll Admit I’ve Been Lying To You About Some Things, Anyway.

Chara shakes, hands curling into fists. Some things. ‘ _Some things_ ,’ They say. Papyrus leans in and speaks, brow ridges furrowed, but they don’t pay him a whit of attention. _Tell me the truth. What do You want from me? What do You hope to gain from doing all of this?_

A Better Question At This Juncture Would Be, “What Is To Be Done About Asriel?”

The ice pit becomes a frozen tingle that shudders through Chara’s borrowed body. _What about Asriel?_

He’s In Your Way. We Both Know Your Usual Method Of Dealing With Those Who Are In Your Way.

They don’t respond.

You Need A Soul, Chara. You’ll Learn Shortly Just How Much. When You Do, I Trust You’ll Make The Correct Decision. Until Then, I’ll Be Waiting...

The third one’s consciousness recedes to a corner of their mind but doesn’t wink out. The knowledge that They remain within them, watching and waiting in the shadows for Their time, makes Chara feel sick to their stomach.

“HEY, PUNK!” Undyne roars.

Their nerves seize up, but they suspect they look quite calm as they look over at her. It seems like she’s been standing there for a moment; she’s got a steaming cup of tea and two blackened pieces of toast on a small plate. She shoves them at them, and they struggle to take a sip and a bite, but instead they end up spilling everything all over the bed and themselves.

“Oh no!! Are you all right, Chara?!” Papyrus demands, already at their side and dabbing away the tea with the sheets. “That tea must be scalding!!”

“Whoops. Sorry about that,” Undyne says sheepishly.

But Chara stares. “It’s not hot at all,” they say blankly.

“Huh?? But I boiled the HELL out of that tea water!” Undyne protests.

It’s not hot. It’s not cold. It’s just... wet. They pinch themselves, but even when they twist the skin, they don’t feel a thing.

“I can’t feel my body. What’s wrong with me?” they mumble. _Besides the obvious,_ is their first mental self-jab, followed by _Way more than anyone can name._

The three monsters look at each other, then over at Alphys. After a moment of being too absorbed in her work to notice, she startles.

“O-oh, were you asking me? Um. You, um. Well, um... You’ve b-been walking around without a SOUL, haven’t you?” she stammers.

Chara doesn’t respond. It doesn’t seem like the thing that needs an answer.

“B-but, uh... you’ve still... felt emotions... haven’t you?” she adds. “Which is, um, unusual. To say the least. Theoretically, without a SOUL, your ability to feel emotion should be... um... stunted.”

This rings true, based on what Flowey--Asriel--has told them. They start to get a bad feeling about this.

“I-I have two different hypotheses. The first is that since F-Frisk’s SOUL wasn’t destroyed, and their body is still technically alive, there’s feedback from their SOUL to their body, allowing you to still feel emotions and sensations via this link. But this feedback has either been degrading over time or it was never very strong to begin with, a-and your senses have been growing numb as a result.

“The other hypothesis is, um. That being human changes what happens when you exist without a SOUL. When it comes to monsters, um, monster SOULs are supposedly made of compassion and love, so without a SOUL, a monster can’t feel those things. B-but it’s uncertain what human SOULs are made of. I-I do know that a human SOUL is the source of their determination, s-so, um, not having one means... that lacking one affects not your ability to feel but your ability to, um. Survive.

“Either way, y-your body is steadily, um... breaking down. This was exacerbated by, um, your fight, and, um, whatever you did with Papyrus, a-and, um, Frisk’s SOUL getting absorbed by another body.” She pauses, then concludes in a rush, “In short, you’re dying.”

The news affects Chara less than it probably should. Maybe it’s because they’ve perished so many times. Maybe their emotions have finally expired after all. Either way, they just blink once and say, “Oh.”

“What?! No way!!” Undyne shouts, leaping to her feet.

Papyrus is right there with her. “Dr. Alphys, isn’t there anything you can do?!”

“I-I, um, I don’t know,” she admits, wringing her claws and not looking their way. “The obvious s-solution is to, um, return the human’s SOUL to their body. That should, um, theoretically reverse what’s happening. B-but, um, th-that’s not a guarantee. It might be that the body has passed a critical threshold and is going to, um, pass away no matter what...”

“Oh,” Chara repeats, thinking of Frisk. So not only did they get them kicked out of their own body, they also wrecked it, possibly irreversibly, while they were gone--for less than a day, at that. It’s so funny, they have to laugh. It sounds crackly and hoarse to their ears. The monsters all stare at them, but let them judge. They’re not wrong to.

“Hey, let’s all get some rest,” Sans suggests. “We’ve all had a rough day and we’re letting it get to us. Some shut-eye will do us all good. We can tackle this problem in the morning with clear heads. How’s that sound?”

Undyne gives him a funny look, but nods. “Yeah... I hate waiting around and doing nothing, but you’ve got a point.” She grins toothily at Chara and punches a fist into an open palm. “But tomorrow morning, we’re gonna kick that flower’s butt and get Frisk’s SOUL back where it belongs!! Got it?!”

_I knew you had it in you!_ Flowey had jeered when Frisk had brought the knife down on him. Chara fakes a smile and nods.

Papyrus is slightly less enthused but still cheerful. “It’ll all work out if we just talk to him! I know it will! So don’t give up hope, Chara!” he reassures them.

Chara already talked to Flowey. That’s how they ended up in this state in the first place. They give him a pretty little smile and nod, too.

After Papyrus finishes cleaning up the spilled tea and gets them new sheets, he heads down the escalator with Undyne. Once they’re gone, Alphys trundles over. She gives Sans a curt nod, then looks over at Chara.

“Um,” she mumbles. “I’m... I’m really sorry.”

“Is this body really going to rot away?” they wonder quietly.

“U-um, t-technically, it’s... already started to? Ehe... ehehe...”

“Oh.”

“S-sorry,” she repeats, and then rushes away. She pauses at the top of the escalator and looks over at Sans. “U-um, are you...?”

“I’ll be down later,” he replies. “Someone’s gotta watch out for the kid.”

“Oh... right, okay...”

And then she’s gone. The only one left is Sans, and he stays right in his seat. They meet each other’s eyes, and for a moment, neither says a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The great Papyrus has a heart as wide as the sea and twice as deep!" This is a reference to Cure Marine's combat speech from _Heartcatch Pretty Cure!_.
> 
> "...watching and waiting in the shadows for Their time..." This is a reference to the song _In the Shadows_ by The Rasmus.


	26. Kill Or Be Killed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, _Strange Places_ has broken 100K words. Wild.

“So,” Sans says. “Busy day, huh?”

Chara lets their gaze drift away. He was so unresponsive before, but now he seems, if not okay, then at least passably functional. He really can tolerate anything as long as he’s got Papyrus--just like how Chara can tolerate anything as long as they’ve got Frisk or Asriel. They stare at the unfamiliar ceiling and wonder why it all had to come to this.

“Listen,” he continues. “I already thanked you about Papyrus, but I, uh... I also want to apologize.”

They tilt their head back at him, blinking slowly. “Why?”

“I made you a promise, too,” he says, not quite meeting their eyes. “But I didn’t see it through. I’m sorry.”

“Technically, you did,” they reply. Their voice sounds so indifferent and mechanical. It doesn’t sound real. Probably because it’s not their voice, but Frisk’s with their tone and inflection. “You said you’d find Frisk’s SOUL and bring it back. That’s what you did.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. So you don’t owe me anything. You did what you said you would. And this is my own fault, anyway. It always has been.”

“...What’re you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” they lie, then realize they actually aren’t. Their voice cracks a little: “I’m just so tired, Sans. I don’t want to do this anymore. Frisk’s counting on me, but it’s too much.”

“You don’t have to do it alone, kiddo.”

“You don’t understand. This is between Flowey and me now.”

“By Flowey, you mean Asriel Dreemurr, right?”

Their pulse speeds up, creating an unpleasant contrast against the clammy numbness of their skin. They stare at him.

“We all compared notes while you were out,” he replies, answering their unspoken question. “No wonder you were so protective of that little flower. Family’s important. I get that.”

“No you don’t,” they murmur. “There’s so much you don’t get.”

“Then explain it to me, Chara. I’m listening.”

They lean their head back and think. When they’ve sorted out a way to explain, they say, “You really care about Papyrus, right? He’s everything to you.”

“...Yeah.”

“And no wonder. He’s a genuinely good person.”

“Yeah, that’s my brother, all right,” Sans agrees, tone affectionate.

“What would you say his best traits are?”

He peers at them, possibly wondering where they’re going with this. “Well, let’s see. He’s driven. He’s sincere, even if he tries not to be sometimes. He’s hard-working. He’s always got the energy for everything he needs and wants to do; that one’s really amazing to me. Once he sets his sights on something, he never gives up. He’s kind and forgiving in a way I could never manage. You couldn’t ask for a more loyal friend, either. He really believes in himself and everyone around him. Even though he’s busy with his own life, he always takes time out for me. How much were you looking for? I could go on for hours.”

Chara smiles a little. “That’s fine.” They pause. “And what would you say your worst traits are?”

“My _worst_ traits? Uh...” He rubs the back of his skull. “Well, I’m pretty lazy. And messy. I kinda... don’t bother to do stuff a lot of times. Even the stuff I really need to do. That always drives Papyrus nuts. Uh, what else... I kind of--turn a blind eye to stuff sometimes. Even though I see what’s going on, you know? Oh, and, uh, on that note, I tend to keep stuff to myself. Oh, and I act laidback and non-judgmental, but 95% of the time, that’s actually because I just don’t care. When I _do_ care, I’m actually super-judgmental. I’m kind of a hypocrite like that.”

They chuckle. “That’s really honest of you. I’m surprised.”

He shrugs. “Pretty sure you already knew all that, anyway.”

“Well. Imagine, if you can, you’re trying to accomplish something big. Something important. You talk Papyrus into helping you, even though he’s not so sure it’s a great idea. But the two of you mess it up, and because of your mistake, Papyrus ends up dead.”

Sans says nothing.

Chara curls their hands around their locket. “He comes back--but without a SOUL. And he’s so pure and sincere, even without a SOUL, he blames himself for your stupid idea going sour. He thinks, if he’d just been more like you, it would’ve turned out fine.” They choke, and their voice trembles. “So he turns his back on everything that makes him great, and starts becoming like _you_. Indifferent. Uncommunicative. Hypocritical. Judgmental. And when he sees you again, he can’t stop talking about how the way you are was the right way to be all along.

“And you know, looking at him, that you’ve destroyed the most--beautiful thing in your life--and it’s all your fault. And you can’t ever fix it, and you can’t ever take it back. And he just doesn’t get why you’re so upset, and keeps asking you to laze about with him while he laughs at this stupid world he used to love so much, because now he can’t love anything at all. Except for you, even though _you’re the one who did this to him_.” They clench their teeth to hold back a sob and end up burbling out another laugh instead. “That’s what it’s like between Asriel and me.”

\---

The sun on the outside world has long since set. Flowey knows because the darkness has settled in overhead, in the mountain cave where Chara once fell in from. He stares up at it as he spreads his roots through the room, settling in next to the patch of golden flowers.

Inside him, his stolen SOUL pulses painfully. He’s not happy about this, but when is he ever happy, _really_ happy, about anything anymore?

Even so, he mutters, “Cut it out, Frisk. They deserved it.”

Sorrow without words melts through his mind. He hangs his head.

“You don’t know them like I did,” he mutters. “We were always together. I’d have done anything for them. I _did_ do anything for them, very nearly.” He scowls down at the patch of flowers. “But ‘very nearly’ doesn’t count, huh? I guess they never will forgive me for that.”

His entire body is heavy. It’s not fair. He feels again for the first time in forever, and what he feels just weighs him down.

“Whatever,” he continues brusquely. “Chara never cared about me. I get that now. It’s all thanks to you, you know? They ignored me on purpose all this time, but you came when I called. And they didn’t even try to talk to me; they just kept demanding your SOUL back. But you stayed with me, so it’s okay. I don’t blame you for the bad stuff you did. I know what kind of influence they are. And--and I’ll make up for the bad stuff I did to you, okay? I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone take you away from me. Not even _them_.”

His eyes itch. He blinks twice, and raindrops fall from his face down to the grave below. “S-stop it,” he chokes. “I don’t care! I don’t! I did everything I could to be what they wanted me to be, and it’s still not good enough! I’ll never be good enough for them! But I’m good enough for you. So you’re good enough for me, do you get that?”

The rain keeps falling.

“I don’t _care_! They abandoned me. Why should I keep trying to beg the forgiveness of someone who doesn’t even want me around? W-why--why should I pine after someone who doesn’t even like me anymore?! So stop it...”

He curls in on himself.

“Stop being so sad, Frisk... You’re making me sad, too...”

\---

After a long silence, Sans coughs discreetly. “That, uh... that really paints a vivid picture. Wow. Yeah. I think... I finally understand you. Maybe not completely, but better than before.”

“How much do you regret it?”

“A lot less than I figured I would.”

Chara chuckles faintly.

“So... That being the case... what are you going to do about him?”

“Haha... That’s the million-GP question, isn’t it?” They curl their hand in their shirt. “Looking back... Asriel and I have never fought before. Not like this. He always just went along with whatever I said. And aside from Frisk, who’s the most forgiving person I’ve ever met, he’s the only friend I’ve ever had. He’s right to be mad at me, too. I _did_ ignore him. I _did_ prioritize Frisk and you over him. I _did_ get him killed. His hatred for me is completely justified. How can I ask him to forgive me? I don’t even know how to make up with him.”

“...Then what’re you going to do about Frisk?”

“I... I can’t abandon them. They don’t deserve any of this. But Asriel won’t just give them up, I’m sure of it. But can I really kill him to free Frisk? _Should_ I? Violence is the wrong answer, isn’t it, Sans? That’s what you kept trying to convey to us. But I--” They wrap their arms around themselves. “I don’t know how to resolve this _without_ violence.”

Sans says nothing for a moment. Then he leans back in his chair. “This might sound weird coming from me,” he says. “But I think you’ve got a better grip on what’s right than you think--just like how Frisk isn’t as much of a saint as we both like to pretend.”

“That _does_ sound weird coming from you,” they agree, lifting their head. “You know the only thing I understand is violence. I’ve been like that my whole life. It’s in my blood.” They hug themselves tight. “That’s why you had to kill me thirteen times before I got it.”

“...But you _did_ get it. Right?”

They blink over at him.

He holds their gaze. “Sometimes the right thing to do isn’t easy to figure out. And when things aren’t easy, it’s tempting to give up. Believe me, I know how that is. But... how to put this... you owe it to yourself to be the best ‘you’ you can be.”

They lean their head back, scowling as they avert their eyes. “Sage words from a guy who loves to do nothing. Why don’t you take your own advice, Sans?”

“I’m trying to.”

Chara says nothing.

“Sorry,” Says after a moment. “Guess it’s not going too great, huh.”

“It’s okay...” they mumble, sagging. “Sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m just... hopeless. In every sense of the word.”

The silence that falls between them hangs still and choking like a noose. After a minute, Sans leans back in his seat, then nods to himself decisively.

“Hey,” he says to catch their attention. “What did the dying murder child say to the skeleton judgeman?”

They peer at him. “...What?”

“‘Sorry to _cut_ and run, but it was _knife_ knowing you!’”

Chara snorts and giggles.

“‘And hey,’” Sans adds, encouraged, “‘you look _stabulous_!’”

Chara laughs again, harder this time. “Tell me another one.”

“Okay--why did the human cross the skeleton?”

“Oh my god. Why?”

“To get to the _other side_!”

Chara wheezes with laughter. God! And depending on how you look at it, it worked either thirteen times in a row, or not even once. They shake a hand at him. “Okay, okay, my turn. Why doesn’t the skeleton ever share his feelings?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s already _dead inside_!”

Sans snorts and laughs. It’s funny because it’s true.

Chara watches him, looking pleased. “Here’s one Ree told me: about that human with the temporal superpowers--why do you think they like murder so much?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a great way to _kill time_!”

He laughs again, a little harder this time.

“Okay, now tell me a knock-knock joke.”

“All right: knock knock.”

“Come in.”

Sans pauses. The edges of their lips have curled up. When he stares at them, it turns into a full-blown sharp-toothed grin. After a moment, Sans starts laughing again, and so do they.

“Wow,” he says. “You little punk, you got me. That was a good one.”

Chara’s laughter settles into giggles, then into faint chuckles. “Thanks,” they say. “I’m feeling a little better now.”

“And here you say you don’t understand anything but violence. You get comedy just fine, don’t you?”

Their eyes widen.

\---

“There and... there,” Flowey mutters. He flexes his sinuous body, most of which is underground at this point. “They won’t get away. Once Chara shows up, _snap_. It’ll be just them and us, and we’ll win for sure.”

Something in the vicinity of his chest aches.

“What do you mean, what if they don’t show up? Of course they’ll show up! They have to... oh. Oh no. Oh _no_ , you’re _right_. If they ditched me, they might ditch you too,” he frets, tendrils coiling in distress. “No, that can’t be. They wouldn’t shut up about me giving you back. They’ve _got_ to come. What are they doing now, d’you think? _Ugh_ , probably swapping stupid puns with Smiley Trashbag. Why do they have to like _him_ so much?”

Affection wafts up in him, both pleasant and foreign. Its presence irritates him.

“I don’t care if you like him too! Why...” He glances to one side. “Why do either of you have to care about anyone but me? You tried so hard to make me like you. Well, now I do. And now you have to think about someone else? That’s not fair!”

The warmth dissolves like cotton candy in the rain. Flowey purses his mouth, then sighs.

“Sorry. I’m still getting used to... this. I guess. I know you’re not going anywhere.” He smiles, bittersweet. “I’m a body without a SOUL, and you’re a SOUL without a body. We were made for each other, wouldn’t you say?”

\---

They settle back on the bed, hands folded over their chest. “You want to hear a really funny joke? I heard this one from Ree, too.”

“Sure.”

“In the last timeline, Asriel told me a lot about himself. He started out his timeline runs trying to help people, do you believe it? But since he doesn’t have a SOUL of his own anymore, he wasn’t able to feel love by helping them. The more runs he did, the more bored he grew, until one day he wondered, ‘What would happen if I killed people instead?’ So he started killing people--but that eventually lost its appeal too. Now he’s out to gain ultimate power, but he told me that he’d be satisfied with just living with me up on the surface. Of course, that was before he called me a sicko and ran away. He told me at the same time this world is fine the way it is, but when I reset, he criticized me for giving up on destroying it. But that’s not the joke.”

Chara lifts their arm to block out the light with their palm, fingers splayed, and thinks of kitchens. _Even though we’re friends forever, we don’t join hands. No matter how forlorn we are, we each insist on standing on our own two feet..._

“The joke is this,” they continue. “The very first thing he did when he woke up as a flower was try to spend time with his father and mother in the hopes that they’d let him feel love again. But it failed. He can’t feel anything for anyone. No matter how many times he resets, he’ll never be able to get what he truly wants: the ability to love.

“The same goes for me. I regret talking Asriel into the surface plan more than anything. If I had the power to go back and stop myself, I’d do it in a heartbeat. And I _do_ have the power to go back! But no further back than when Frisk fell into the Underground. Together, we could kill everyone. We could save everyone. We could do anything in between. But no matter how many times we reset, I’ll never get what I truly want: to undo the mistakes I’ve made.

“Isn’t that funny? All the power he and I have over the very fabric of time and space, and it’s completely useless.” They chuckle bleakly. “All we can do is go in endless circles.”

\---

As the hours tick on, Flowey takes to crawling up and down the walls, literally.

“Do you think they’re coming? They have to, right? They wanted to get you back so much. If they want you, they _have_ to accept my challenge.

“Do you think they know where to go? Was I too vague? They got what I was getting at, right? I don’t want to wait here forever for them, that’s boring!

“Do you think they’re okay? We left them collapsed in the lab. Maybe we should go back and peek in on them. Just in case. It’s no fun if they die right away!

“Do you think they’re thinking about us right now? About me?”

\---

“...What’s Frisk want?” Sans asks quietly.

Chara considers this. They don’t have to ponder long. “To make a happy ending for everyone. I guess, to have it with everyone,” they reply. They laugh a little. “Come to think... as long as Ree and I exist, they’ll never get what they want, either.

“If only we didn’t exist.”

\---

A red SOUL pulses with quiet determination, beating in time to their companion’s worries. Coherent thought is difficult for them right now, but they recall a man and a woman who perhaps once loved each other arguing on either side of them, screaming epithets at one another while they cringe in a corner of the room. They recall shouting matches heard through paper-thin walls, of the anxious twist in their gut it gave them each time. They recall when sharp eyes turned their way, their throat closed up, and attempts to curry their favor, to gain an edge over the other, ended inevitably in curses--at them, at each other, at anything and everything. Even now, years later, they can’t quite escape the sound of it, the echoes that whisper that were it not for them, none of this would have happened.

I hate fighting, so please don’t put me in the middle.

I love you both, so please don’t use me to hurt one other.

They recall a child and a flower who loved each other once, who still love each other, whose love nonetheless can’t quite reach across the chasm that separates them. They remember the child hiding behind their face, of the flower killing them for the sin of not being who he thought they were. They remember whispers of confidence, words of longing, that turn sharp and thorny once their recipients finally face one another. They know for a fact that each yearns for the other, but when one gives chase, the other runs away. It doesn’t seem to matter what the SOUL says or does about it. And in the middle, once again, is them.

Even if you’re not good, I love you.

I won’t let you be bored, I promise.

So please don’t put me in the middle.

Please don’t disappear somewhere and leave me all alone...

\---

Sans doesn’t respond. After several silent moments, Chara sighs.

“Sorry,” they say. “Guess it wasn’t a very funny joke.”

“Not my type of humor, I guess,” he replies.

“I do have a habit of saying stupid things,” they murmur. They settle their head back. “...Can I tell you something better to make up for it?”

“What is it?”

“The end of the story I’ve been telling you.”

Sans sits up a little straighter. “Didn’t you want to save it ’til Frisk could hear?”

The despair in their smile paints a portrait.

\---

The man and the woman had left them behind a long, long time ago. They had tried their hardest not to favor one over the other, and it only ever angered and upset the two. If they’d taken a side, would they have been able to stay with at least one of them? Is it better to turn on one person you love so you don’t lose them both?

But they love Flowey entirely because of Chara.

But Flowey has been calling for help all this time.

But they and Chara have been through so much together.

But Chara is the whole reason they’re now with Flowey.

What do I do?

What do I do?

What do I...

\---

He settles back. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Haha... It’s nice of you to indulge me.” They clear their throat. “I told you before about the buttercup pie and the herb quiche and the dogs-that-aren’t-dogs... All that comes back to this... vision, I guess you’d call it, just before I awakened. There was this huge garden, split in two by a path that lead to a giant wrought iron gate that locked everything in. I found myself in the middle of it. To my left, there were fields of golden flowers; to the right, there were all kinds of edible plants. It smelled like heaven--so I immediately thought it was suspicious.”

Sans chuckles a little. Chara smiles along with him, pausing to cough.

“I didn’t know why I was there or what I should do, so I followed the path until I reached the gate. There were two dogs on either side of the gate, which opened up in the middle like so.” They hold their hands together, then creak them outwards from the center. “The dogs, of course, were the ones I told you about before, but at the time, I thought they were just ordinary puppies, so I ran up to pet them.”

They start to cough again, dry and hacking, and this time they hold a fist to their mouth. It takes a couple of seconds to settle down. They thump their chest, knowing perfectly well it’ll do no good, and continue, “Once I reached them, they both looked at me, and they said, ‘So which door will you choose?’

“There are dog monsters in the Underground, so I wasn’t surprised that they could talk. But I didn’t know what they were talking about, and I asked them what they meant. ‘You’re going to go back,’ said the one on the left, near the golden flowers. The one on the right, near the herbs and crops, said, ‘But you have to pick a door first.’

“‘Why do I need to pick a door?’ I asked.

“‘Because which one you pick determines which of us goes with you,’ said the left dog.

“‘Why does that matter?’ I asked.

“‘Because life is lonely without a dog to keep you company,’ said the right dog.

“This made sense at the time, so I started thinking about which to pick. I asked them what the difference between them was, since I couldn’t tell, and they told me to take a look around. I did, and that was when I noticed they were both on either side of the garden. I started seriously thinking about what each half of the garden meant, and, well... it was pretty easy for me to come up with an answer.

“So I picked the buttercup dog.”

“I thought you regretted poisoning Asgore,” Sans says.

Chara flinches. “I do regret it, with everything I am,” they murmur, clutching their shirt. “That’s why. If it hadn’t been for me and my stupid prank, none of this--” they gesture expansively-- “would have ever happened. What right do I have to pretend I’m edible or palatable?” They smile thinly. “I’m poison to the touch and swallow. It’s only proper I choose buttercups.”

Sans looks like he has something he wants to say about this. If he does, all he says is, “And that buttercup dog is your pal the Player, right?”

“The Player?” they echo.

“You called her ‘the third one.’”

Chara is silent for a moment. Inside them, the third one verifies it, plain and matter-of-fact. They shut their eyes. It’s only proper they choose buttercups... “Yes.”

They think he’s going to question them about Them--her--Her? Instead, he says, “So then what happened?”

They blink at him rapidly. Wait--is he that intrigued? With a slight smile, they continue, “Half the gate opened, and the buttercup dog and I started to leave. But then the vegetable dog said, ‘Wait. Before you go, take this.’ I turned around to see him dashing around his side of the garden. Soon he gamboled back with a bunch of greens in his mouth, and he put them in my hand. ‘Just in case you change your mind,’ he told me. I didn’t say anything to him, but I didn’t throw them away, either. I gave them to the buttercup dog to hold, and we left the garden.

“The next thing I knew, I was awake in Frisk’s body, back in the Ruins. I was so confused, I didn’t know what to make of anything at first, so for the longest time I didn’t even think of what I’d seen. But looking back, I understand now. I understand the secret behind this power--why it exists, and how.”

They pause for dramatic effect. Sans leans forward in his seat.

“Well, don’t keep me hanging,” he says, eyelights keen despite his casual tone. “I never was good with these allegory-allegorier-allegoriest metaphors. What’s the secret?”

They smile a little more and lean forward.

\---

It would help if they understood why Chara was so insistent on not talking about Flowey, about not revealing their presence to him, about deliberately making him think they weren’t here after all. After all, hadn’t he named them near the beginning of the last timeline? What would be the purpose of hiding away after that...?

Flowey had accused Chara of letting them take the fall for his misunderstanding, and Chara had said nothing back. But they don’t think it’s because they didn’t care. Knowing all they do, they’re sure it’s because they care too much. Then again, if that’s true, why were they willing to attack him? What is it they really want? For all the time they spent together, they don’t understand. Maybe they never really understood.

Flowey, by contrast, is easy to understand, now that they know more about him. For all his talk of claiming ultimate power and taking control of the timelines, they know he yearns more than anything for Chara. They empathize keenly with his hurt at learning that Chara knew this and still refused to answer his calls for help. No wonder he’s convinced they don’t care.

They know they’re just a substitute for Chara. They know they’re being fought over. They know, once again, no one has bothered to ask them what they think or want. But this time at least, they are needed. This time at least, they aren’t alone. They can accept this.

But who needs them most?

The answer is obvious. They feel Flowey’s sense of loss and radiate it back into grief. As he vacillates back and forth between hatred and love, they waver with him and make the emotion real. Only they could do this for him. He said it himself, didn’t he? It wasn’t like this even with the other six SOULs.

Flowey--Asriel--is already here. He needs them. How can they just abandon him? And at least Chara will get to have their body for themselves. A body for a ghost, and a SOUL for a vessel... Isn’t that the fairest solution of all?

They know it’s not over. They know that Asriel and Chara will come to blows, and they hate it. But if they must choose a side...

Let it be Asriel’s.

Whatever becomes of Chara, they’ll protect their best friend.

\---

Violent coughs rack Chara’s borrowed body, first as a sudden jolt, then as an unrelenting torrent. They twist around to face the ground, but they can’t stop. Skeletal fingers grip their shoulders, holding them in place, and they reach out and grip a sleeve like a lifeline. Something thick and wet slimes up their throat and they nearly choke on it; instead, they spit it up on the floor. Vision blurred with tears, they blink rapidly until it comes into view.

Sans is staring at it too. “Is that...?”

“I’ll tell you one thing: it’s not ketchup,” Chara croaks.

He snort-coughs as he simultaneously laughs and tries not to laugh. It’s actually pretty gratifying. “That’s, uh. That’s a really bad sign. Let me go get Alphys.”

They tug on his sleeve. “Don’t tell the others,” they rasp. “I’ve been through this before. Just get me a towel.”

They can’t quite read Sans’s expression, but nonetheless he nods. They let him go, and when he returns a few minutes later, it’s with a roll of paper towels, a glass of water, and some pills. He helps them clean up and tells them to take what turn out to be painkillers, which is nice on both counts because their head is throbbing. They cough several times more after that, but the fits aren’t as severe, at least. Still, by the end of it, they feel wrung out.

“Sans. About what I was telling you,” they rasp.

“Tell me later,” he says.

_There might not be a later,_ they think, staring at him with wobbly eyes.

He catches their look, smile grim, and they implicitly understand that he knows that. “Something to look forward to,” he says instead. “There’s always tomorrow.”

_Are you trying to give me a reason to live?_ they wonder. They clutch the sheets. Ironic, that Sans of all people would encourage them to FIGHT on. But...

He glances towards Alphys’s personal library. “You want me to read you something? You need your rest, and it might help you get to sleep if you have another attack.”

If they fall asleep, they might not wake up again. “Get me something to read instead.”

He nods. “Any requests?”

They think for a second, then laugh silently. “ _Night on the Galactic Railroad_. Or else whatever.”

He gets up. A few minutes later, to their immense surprise, he comes back and hands them their request, though the title is slightly different: _Night on the Milky Way Train_. An alternate translation, no doubt. They accept it with shaky hands and roll over onto their back, staring at it. They’d requested this as a joke; they never actually expected Alphys to have it.

Maybe there’s an anime based on it or something. That’d make sense.

“This what you were looking for?” Sans asks.

They crack it open and croak, “I think so. Yeah. Thanks.”

Sans nods and leaves them to it, heading for the escalator as they begin to read. It’s not a long book. Although their head swims at times, the painkillers do their job. When they eventually put it down, their cheeks are wet.

_You remind me a little of Campanella, I think, or maybe Scorpio,_ Frisk had told them a day ago at best. If Asriel is their Giovanni, Campanella might work, but for all that they exist only in a brief passage, Scorpio is so accurate it hurts.

They tilt their head back and hug the book to their chest. _Dear God, please look into my heart..._ they pray silently as they recall the past.

\---

“So... you’re with me?” Flowey wonders.

The pulse in his body signals, if not approval, then at least acceptance and resignation.

“Great! That’s great!” He pauses. “Look... I know you probably don’t like this. But it’s going to come down to a fight no matter what,” he argues. “You heard Chara.” He chuckles ruefully, bowing his head. “Who I am now... is modeled off what they taught me.”

\---

Chara had been surprised to find they still retained a will and a consciousness after Asriel absorbed their SOUL, and at first they’d been in a bit of a daze. Nonetheless, they’d beaten their plan into both of them, and Asriel, like usual, deferred to them. They picked up their own body and walked through the barrier, together.

\---

“There’s one lesson they taught me that’s stuck with me all this time,” Flowey says. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

\---

But at the last minute, Asriel got cold feet. No, it wasn’t that he got cold feet; it was just too against his nature. Chara had been afraid of it. They knew he was fundamentally kind-hearted, that he wasn’t fully enthusiastic for their plan despite swearing he wouldn’t doubt them. That’s why they’d tried to drill him so hard on a single principle, simplified as much as possible, so he wouldn’t choke at a crucial moment:

\---

“Kill or be killed.”

\---

_Kill or be killed._

\---

Kill or be killed. The SOUL mourns. Is that really the only way?

“But... what other choice is there?”

\---

That’s what Chara taught Asriel. That’s their legacy. And Flowey has made it clear he intends to take their final lesson to heart.

\---

“So that’s just how it has to be,” Flowey concludes. “Chara won’t show me mercy. I’m just protecting myself and my friend. What’s wrong with that?”

There’s so much wrong with that. But there’s nothing the SOUL can say. They’ve already made their choice.

\---

So that’s why Chara takes a deep breath and steels themselves for what they’ve resolved to do. Alphys had told them that a human’s determination could let one push oneself up to and past the brink of death, and for good or ill, the Player gives them plenty extra. It’ll have to be enough.

\---

When the sounds of the lab have all died down, they slip out of the bed and ghost downstairs. The monsters, including the amalgamates, are asleep on the floor; Chara makes sure to count everyone to make sure they’re all there. The chocolate bar they’d nibbled on earlier that day is nowhere in sight. A bitter disappointment, that. If Chara had known then what they know now, they would have stuffed the whole thing in their mouth instead of trying to savor it.

Their knife is on Alphys’s computer desk, and they weave around slumbering bodies to retrieve it. They drift their fingers up and down its edges. It needs sharpening, but it’ll still serve its purpose. The worn dagger is perfect for cutting vines and roots. Into the pocket it goes.

Then they tiptoe to the door, glance over their shoulder to make sure everyone is still there, and sneak out. The temperature change, or lack thereof, is disappointing. They know Hotland must be roasting like always, but they still feel so cold. Not fair.

They drag themselves south to the river ferry and find Sans there waiting for them. They made sure to count him out twice, but here he is, nonetheless. They’re not surprised.

“Hey,” he says, winking in casual greeting. “Going somewhere?”

They blink at him slowly, swaying on their feet. “Yes.”

“If you fight him, it’s not gonna end well.”

They smile mirthlessly. “Why should that stop me?”

“Listen, Chara. What’re you hoping to accomplish?”

“Frisk wanted to stop the resets. As long as Flowey and I both exist, they’ll continue.”

“...And you want them to stop, too.”

“I want to finish what I started. That’s all.”

“Are you really sure about this? You love him.”

“I do. That’s _why_ I’m sure. I’m going to end his suffering.”

The presence in the back of their mind bubbles with something like gleeful anticipation. How nice for Her that She’s enjoying the show.

Sans is quiet for a moment. Then he nods. “All right.”

Chara lurches for the ferry, situation seemingly resolved.

“One last question, though,” he adds as they pass.

They glance at him.

He winks back. “Need a lift?”

They blink again, this time startled. “Are you offering? Why?”

“I want to see this through. That’s all.”

Chara almost smiles. “...Okay. I’ll take you up on that, then. Shortcut?”

“Shortcut,” Sans agrees. “But, uh, tell me where we’re going first.”

Chara tells him, and he listens. Sans ambles north, and they follow.

\---

Over the patch of blossoms that mark Chara’s grave, Flowey-and-Frisk await.

\---

**Determination.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Even though we’re friends forever, we don’t join hands. No matter how forlorn we are, we each insist on standing on our own two feet..." Chara is quoting _Kitchen_ by Banana Yoshimoto.
> 
> "I never was good with these allegory-allegorier-allegoriest metaphors." This is a reference to the song _Allegory, Allegorier, Allegoriest_ (original title: _Guui Guuwa Guuest_ by Ban'yuu Inryoku (translation: Universal Gravitation) for _Revolutionary Girl Utena_.
> 
> "Dear God, please look into my heart..." Chara is quoting _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ by Kenji Miyazawa, and the referenced characters Giovanni, Campanella, and Scorpio are all from the same.


	27. The Most Worthless Thing Here

As deep underground as New Home was, sometimes both birds and breezes found their way in. One could usually find both in the king’s flower garden, and although Chara had no love for the surface humans, the nature therein was another matter.

But today wasn’t about nature, or at least not the positive aspects of it. They waited while watching the king and queen’s thrones as birdsong bent their ears and a zephyr bent the flowers.

“Chara!” Asriel called at their back. They could hear him huffing as he ran up behind them. “I got the buttercups for you. Don’t worry, nobody saw me.”

Chara turned and smiled at him. “Thanks, Ree. I’ll take the rest from here.”

They held out their hands, and for a second, their eyes met Asriel’s. His shone as he handed them the bouquet of tiny yellow flowers. When they gave him a reassuring nod, he responded in like, and it make them feel better. They knew he had some trepidation about the plan, but even so, he trusted them.

He was too good for them. Everyone was. They wished they had the words to convey how much everyone, but especially he, meant to them.

Action would just have to do.

Asriel clutched the hem of his sweater but said nothing as Chara ate the flowers and began their painful, methodical poisoning.

\---

Shadows cling to the walls and memories cling to their mind as Chara shuffles past the doorway and down the hall. The patch of golden flowers that had broken Frisk’s initial fall into the Underground is in sight, and above it, Flowey, his head centered around a mass of vines. Sans strolls in behind them, and though his hands are in his pockets, he follows close enough to catch them if they stumble. They know this because he’s had to do so several times so far. Having never been in the Ruins before, he couldn’t shortcut through it, just to the door in the woods of Snowdin. Lucky for both of them that it had been forced open by powerful vines. That’s how Chara knew their guess was right.

They had both hoped and dreaded that they might see Toriel along the way as they passed through Home, but... alas and thank god, it was not to be. It’s probably for the best, anyhow. They don’t know what they’d even say to her.

At the legato sound of their footsteps, Flowey lifts his head and bares a grotesque, black-eyed grin. “So you’re finally here, Chara! I’ve been waiting _forever_ for you! I--” His face ticks over into an irritated frown. “What the heck? I told you to come alone! What’s HE doing here?”

“Hey, thanks for forcing the Ruins door open,” Says says, casual and easygoing as ever. “Made it real easy to get inside.”

“I didn’t do that for YOU,” Flowey snaps. “Get out of here! I didn’t call YOU!”

“He’s just here to watch,” Chara says. “Ignore him.”

Flowey scowls at them. “I can’t believe you. Our final showdown, OURS, and you STILL choose him over me? I really do hate you, Chara!!”

“Woah, it’s not like that,” Sans starts, then cuts himself off when Chara raises a hand.

“It’s fine,” they say tonelessly. “Just let it go.”

Sans glances at them. He understands Chara enough now to know that there was no way they wouldn’t answer Flowey’s, or rather Asriel’s, challenge. That’s why he helped them out; they would absolutely walk all the way back here from Hotland, even if it meant collapsing along the way. They’ve already almost done that a few times. Determination or no, he really doesn’t think they can beat Asriel in a fight. The sensible thing to do, then, would be to stop them.

But he doesn’t. He shuffles back a couple of steps to let them go on alone.

Even now, he’s not sure it’s the right choice. He’d told himself that he was respecting their choices, letting them make their decisions for themselves, but is he really? Or is he taking the easy way out by letting the cards fall where they may? Like he told Chara, the right thing to do isn’t always easy to figure out.

He looks over at Flowey and the red heart pulsing slowly inside him. If he attacked now, he could probably make him spit up that SOUL, and if he got Frisk’s SOUL back inside their body, he’d both keep his promise for real and maybe save their life in the process. But... Alphys said that their body might be too far gone by now. In that case, returning their SOUL would mean consigning Frisk to death. Is taking that risk without regard for how anyone else feels about it really the right thing to do? Or is telling himself that it’s not, and thus doing nothing, just a poor excuse for being lazy? ...Hell if he knows.

But he _does_ know that if it were him, and if that were a soulless mockery of Papyrus on the other side of the room, he’d want any peanut gallery to shut up and stay out of it. So he shoves his hands into his pockets and watches.

Chara meanwhile waits for an answer. The fact that they don’t get one tells them everything: I won’t interfere, Sans’s silence and backwards movement say. They appreciate that. Even if this is the wrong decision, Asriel’s made it clear that he wants it to be just them, and truthfully, Chara feels the same way. Thinking of it like that, maybe Asriel was right; maybe they were wrong to want to be friends with Sans. If it were them, they would have been jealous of any outside friends Asriel tried to make. It’s too late to talk that over, though; it would be meaningless to try. The only thing left for them to do is to end this.

“It’s time to end this,” Flowey sneers, echoing their thoughts. It’s enough to make Chara want to smile. They don’t. “I’m going to crush you inside that worthless body and grind your bones to dust!”

The SOUL inside him flickers.

“That’s nice,” Chara replies, just as toneless.

“What the heck! At least act intimidated or something!!” His eyes bulge as he bares jagged teeth at them. “I’m not the wimpy little crybaby you think you know anymore!!”

They shrug. “If you’re going to attack, why don’t you go ahead and attack?”

It’s sort of funny, but although they hadn’t meant to intimidate him, he actually seems a little shaken by that, if the way he hesitates is any indication. This time, they do smile. It’s _too_ funny.

“What’s wrong?” they say. One step forward, heavy with effort. “If you won’t make the first move, I will.” Another step forward, dragging along the stone and dirt. “I’m going to destroy the most worthless thing here.”

Flowey shivers. That idiot. He really doesn’t understand. But he’ll learn, soon enough.

Then, once they’ve fully entered the clearing, it happens: Flowey twists in circles, and vines erupt from the ground, caging the two of them inside and locking Sans out. He must have had that planned, though they wonder why he bothered if he was going to be so surprised and upset that they brought a guest.

Sans doesn’t say anything, though a glance over their shoulder shows Chara that he’s watching the proceedings closely, smile grim. Their eyes meet, and he gives them a slight nod. They turn away without returning it, shoulders creaking. It’s best not to get too familiar anymore.

“Before we start,” they add, “how’s Frisk?”

“They’re just fine,” he replies tersely. “They’re BETTER than fine, because they’re with ME now.”

For a beat, the red heart pulses in Flowey’s body, somewhere near his head. Its quiet, reserved warmth doesn’t reach Chara, though they know Frisk must emit it. They smile more. That warmth... must no longer be for them. They reach up and clasp their pendant, then let their hand fall away.

“Good,” they murmur. “I’d hate it if they were in bad shape.”

“You want their SOUL back, don’t you?” Flowey accuses. “You’re not getting it. I’ll die before I give it back to you.”

Their smile widens. With a flick of their wrist, their knife appears in their hand. “Well then... let’s _cut_ straight to the _point_.”

The third one howls with delight in their head. Frisk’s SOUL flickers as a familiar screen arises, slicing the space between Chara and Flowey.

_ [ FIGHT ] [ ACT ] [ ITEM ] [ MERCY ]

There’s Nothing More Dramatic Than A Fight To The Death Between Old Friends. Don’t Worry, Chara! I’ll Be With You To The Very End. Now...

[ **FIGHT** ] [ ACT ] [ ITEM ] [ MERCY ]

Fight, says the third one.

Chara laughs. They laugh and laugh and laugh as they raise their knife. The red light flickers coldly. Thorny vines twist in the air and curl around, points aimed for their failing body. Nonetheless, they summon the strength to bring that knife down with all the force of their destructive hatred on the most worthless thing there.

[ FIG/HT ] [ ACT ] [ ITEM ] [ MERCY ]

“Frisk, can you hear me?” they murmur, staring straight up at Flowey as he gapes at them, astonished. His vines quiver in uncertainty, while the third one’s malicious cheer blanks out. “I’d climb over a mountain of corpses to save you if that’s what it took.”

[ FI G/ HT ] [ ACT ] [ ITEM ] [ MERCY ]

“But that wouldn’t make you happy, would it? That’s not the ending you want to write,” they continue. White-knuckled, they dig the knife down a little deeper, a little harder. The SOUL in Flowey’s body shines brilliant scarlet. They hope it means they’re listening.

[ F I G / H T ] [ ACT ] [ ITEM ] [ MERCY ]

“I don’t want to write it, either.” Their smile gentles, though their hand still shakes as they keep the blade in. “Not if I have to sacrifice Asriel. I’ve had enough of that.”

[ f i G / h T ] [ ACT ] [ ITEM ] [ MERCY ]

“And that’s why... I refuse to FIGHT.”

[ ACT ] [ ITEM ] [ MERCY ]

The FIGHT button abruptly gives way and shatters into nothingness. Chara hurls away their knife at the same time, and it impacts on the cave wall where it cracks and breaks into three pieces.

...Fight? says the third one, befuddled.

_Since when,_ replies Chara, _were you the one in control?_

They take a deep breath, then spread their trembling arms and meet Flowey’s shocked, slack-jawed stare. Whenever Frisk and Chara fought Asgore, he smashed their MERCY button in an instant, so they knew it was possible... but they didn’t know for sure they could pull it off. If they failed, they really would be the third one’s plaything. That which is worth doing always carries a certain amount of risk, though.

“Here I am, Asriel,” they say, swaying a step forward. “Here I am, Frisk. Sorry it took me so long to come when you called.”

The flower’s eyes shimmer as his face turns soft and fanged. “Chara...?”

\---

“You sure like that knife,” Asriel commented one day, lying together in his father’s garden with Chara, watching them as they cleaned their nails with it. They always kept them long for some reason, so they often got dirty. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it. You like gardening that much?”

They laughed like he’d told a brilliant joke, and his stomach did somersaults even if the humor went over his head. “I do, but that’s not why you never see me without it.” They flipped it over their knuckles with practiced ease; Asriel took a moment to admire them. “You gotta be able to fight. And a knife is nice and stabby, so it commands respect. People know you’re a threat when you point a knife at them.”

Though part of him was tempted to tease Chara the Walking Dictionary for using a non-word like “stabby,” he scrunched his face up. “I don’t get it.”

“That’s okay. That’s part of why I like you.”

He grinned and sat up tall. “R-really?”

“Yeah.” They looked over at him, then sat up too. They flipped the blade again. “Hey, you wanna learn how to knife-fight? I can show you.”

“Wh-what? _Me_? No way!” He waved his paws wildly. “I mean, if it’s for weeding or chopping up stuff for dinner, that’s one thing, but I don’t know about _fighting_!”

They sighed, but with a half-smile. “Suit yourself. I guess I can’t blame you. If I had magic, I’d stick to that, too.”

Asriel frowned, concern curling inside him. “Say, Chara.”

“Yeah?”

“Has anyone, um... tried to hurt you? Since you came to the Underground?”

“What? No! All the monsters are so nice. Nobody’s tried to hurt me at all.” They laughed. “It’s a weird feeling. I admit, I couldn’t believe it at first. I mean, it just seemed...”

They trailed off. Asriel waited for them to continue, but they never did.

“...So if you’re not worried about anyone hurting you,” he said, “why do you worry so much about being able to fight?”

Their smile went away, and they stared at him. Asriel got the feeling like they’d never carried that thought to its logical conclusion before.

“I dunno,” they mumbled, glancing away. “I just feel safer when I have a knife on me.”

“Why?”

They sighed and eyed him as if to size him up. After a moment, they adopted a patient smile. Asriel didn’t like how it made him feel like an ignorant child. That wasn’t how he wanted Chara to see him.

“Sorry,” they said. “I keep forgetting you’ve never been to the surface; you wouldn’t know. Ree, up there is _full_ of things that’ll try to hurt you.”

He squirmed. He didn’t want to argue with them per se, but: “...Really?”

“Yeah. So you ALWAYS carry a weapon. And you _never_ give it up for _any_ reason. Never give it away, never drop it, never let anyone take it from you. It’s just common sense.”

“That’s not very common down here...”

“That’s because monsters are decent, kind people. Humans aren’t like that,” they said wryly. “Up there, if you don’t have a way to protect yourself, you’ll get stomped on. Only an idiot would ever go without a weapon.”

“What about your parents? Wouldn’t they protect you?” Asriel countered.

Chara burst out into loud, ugly laughter, and didn’t stop laughing for a long time. In the end, they never answered that question, and the conversation turned to something else.

\---

Only an idiot would ever go without a weapon.

Chara’s no idiot. Chara would never go without a weapon. Chara would never willingly disarm themselves. Chara would never give someone else the opportunity to hurt them.

Yet here they are.

“Th-this is a trick,” Flowey stammers, gaping down at them as they shuffle forward with arms spread wide. “You’re always tricking me! Well, I won’t fall for it!!”

Several of his vines are positioned to stab down and through that thin, frail body, but--but it would be boring to end it so soon! Not before he knows what Chara’s got planned! He ignores the agony in his borrowed SOUL and snaps several vines together until they twist into one. Then he whips them down, striking the ground next to Chara. The thorns tear up chunks of rock and dirt, which fly into them. It can’t hurt _that_ much, but they yelp anyway, stumble to one side, and fall over. Flowey cackles and makes his best creepy face at them to cover the way his insides jolt to see them topple so easily.

“Boy, I bet you feel stupid now!” he jeers. “Only an IDIOT would ever go without a weapon! Right, Chara?!”

They don’t move for several heart-stopping seconds; then they stir and push themselves upright, elbows trembling. They’re smiling; a breathy chuckle escapes their lips.

“Well,” they murmur, “I guess I’m an idiot.”

Flowey doesn’t know how to react to this. He chooses to swipe again, this time from the side. The braided vine taps them on the hips and sends them sprawling, even though he’d made sure to hold back. He jerks the tendrils away as Chara rolls to a stop, entire body shaking.

“H-hey. Enough pretending,” Flowey demands, voice shaking too. “I know you’ve got something up your sleeve, Chara. You’ve got to!”

Panting, they murmur, “Ree... I don’t mind... if you hate me... enough to kill me. You’ve got... the right to. But... Frisk’s not... like that. They’re not... like me.” They lift their head, though it wobbles so much they can’t look him in the face. “If you’re... l-listening to them... you must know... They must... be suffering... right now.”

And he knows it’s true, because the pulse inside him is screaming that this isn’t a trick, that Chara really destroyed their knife for both of them, that they’re hurt real bad and they’re both making it worse and they need to stop before they do something they can’t undo. The same emotion wails through Flowey, and he pauses; then he carefully curls vines under and around Chara to lift them into the air. They’re limp and unresisting. If there’s a trick or a trap, it’s extremely convincing.

“Y-you’re really stupid if you think this’ll change anything,” Flowey braves on anyway. “I know you didn’t come here for _me_. You just want your stolen SOUL back. Don’t forget how you abandoned--Chara?”

They’ve started to convulse. He’d call it a coughing fit if it weren’t so severe. Before he can figure out what to say, they retch and hurl something too thin and red to be vomit. He watches the puddle of blood splash on the flower patch in horror, and when the other consciousness within him surges forward, he’s too stunned to stop them.

“Chara!!” Frisk shouts through the flower’s face, now morphed to resemble their own. “What’s wrong?! You’re hurt so bad!”

Chara pants in long, wet rasps, then manages to lift their head by leaning it on a vine. “F-Frisk...?” they murmur once their breath is back, eyes shining in and out of focus. They spit out a mouthful of blood and give them a morbid smile. “Haha... Sorry, Frisk. I wrecked your body. Turns out bad things happen when you pilot one without a SOUL... and I went a little overboard saving Papyrus. Soon you won’t have anywhere to come back to.”

“This... No,” Frisk whispers. “Chara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this, I swear...!”

“Don’t worry about it,” they murmur. “It’s good you’re getting along with Ree... This way, you won’t be alone. He’s really nice when he’s not trying to imitate me, too. I’m sure with me gone and you there, he’ll remember who he used to be in no time.”

Their eyes flutter shut. In the moment that Frisk is left numb, Flowey--Asriel--shoulders them to one side metaphysically. The flower’s face takes on a goatlike cast.

“You idiot!!” he shouts. “Why did you come here if you were such a wreck?! You’re in no condition to fight anyone!”

Chara smiles slightly, eyes still shut. “I didn’t come to fight. I came to say goodbye.”

Flowey sucks in a breath. In retrospect, it seems so incredibly obvious.

“Frisk is so good, Ree. That _is_ you, right, Ree...?” they mumble. “They’ll be a good friend to you. Way better than I ever was. So be good to them, okay? Don’t be mean to them. They deserve better. Just like you.”

“I... I...” He can feel himself on the verge of weeping, but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest. It’s not like his usual not-caring. This is because there’s something so much more important in front of him. He bows his head over them, nearly touching. “Chara, this isn’t fair!! This isn’t how it was supposed to go! How could you leave me _again_?!”

They stir, then twist their head to nuzzle the vines holding them. One hand drifts up to touch his face, and tears glitter in their eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Asriel. I was wrong... I never should’ve asked you to kill anyone. I’m so sorry. I swear I never wanted you to get hurt...”

\---

“Okay, repeat after me,” Chara instructed, peering closely at Asriel. “‘Humans will not show me mercy.’”

“Humans will not show me mercy,” Asriel repeated dutifully, though the way he fidgeted in his seat betrayed his discomfort.

“‘Humans started the war in the first place.’”

“Humans started the war in the first place.”

“‘Humans...’” Chara’s voice caught. “‘Humans hurt their own. So they’ll hurt me too.’”

“H-humans... hurt their own. So they’ll hurt me too.”

“‘So if I don’t kill them first, they’ll kill me.’”

“...So if I don’t kill them first, they’ll kill me.”

“Good,” Chara declared, reaching out and clasping Asriel’s hands. Their own hands shook only a little. “I know this is hard for you, Ree, but I’m dead serious. And if you aren’t serious too, you won’t get away with just a pair of skinned knees.”

“I-I know.” Asriel squeezed their hands back and attempted a smile. “I’m just nervous, I guess. I’m sorry. I know they hurt you...”

Chara glanced away, though they didn’t withdraw their hands. “That doesn’t matter,” they said in the brusque way Asriel had come to know meant it _did_ matter, and it mattered a lot, but they didn’t want to discuss it. “This isn’t about me. This is about freeing everyone. That village just happens to be the closest one to the mountain.”

“...But it’s not like you don’t want revenge either, right?”

Chara looked up and smirked. “Don’t I deserve revenge?”

“Of course you do!” he shot back loyally. “But...” He knew the people of Chara’s village had hurt them, but they had never shared the details on how or why. Not that he thought for a second that Chara deserved it! But--

“What if nobody attacks me?” he continued. “I’m not sure I can kill someone who’s not trying to hurt me.”

Chara laughed outright at that, first rocking back, then leaning forward to pull him into a hug. “Oh, they’ll attack you,” they said, black humor in their voice. “They’re disgusting creatures who can’t stand the presence of anyone not like them. And it’s not like you have to kill _all_ of them, Ree. Just six.”

He hugged them back. They felt so nice... He could hold them forever, but soon, he’d never be able to touch them again. He rested his head on their shoulder and stared into nothing.

“Ree,” they said quietly. “I’m serious. There’s no one else I could ask to help me with this, but I don’t want you to die. I’m really scared that if you don’t take this seriously too, you’ll get killed. Can you promise me, when the time comes, you won’t hold back?”

“Y-yeah. I promise.”

But his words were lukewarm, and he knew Chara knew it. They pulled back to frown at him, and he blushed.

“Okay. Let me... put it another way,” they murmured, stroking his face. His blush got worse. “We’re going to be up there together. I’ll be a part of you. Would you let them hurt me?”

“No! Never!” he shot back, severe and instant and brimming with conviction.

They smiled and dug their fingers in his fur. He rested his hand over theirs. “If you let them hurt you, you’re letting them hurt me, too. Don’t let them hurt me, Asriel.

“If you love me, you’ll kill them for me.”

“I do love you, Chara,” he said quietly, the closest he’d ever gotten to telling them exactly how he really felt.

“I--” they uttered, rosy cheeks turning a deeper red. Then they chuckled and bumped their forehead on his. “Idiot. You didn’t have to say it out loud. But... thanks. I know I can trust you. I know with all my heart you won’t let them hurt me.”

And Asriel had smiled at that, something warm and light filling up his chest. He wasn’t sure about killing humans, but he was definite about not letting anyone hurt Chara. As long as they needed him, he could do anything. And like they said, it was just six. Six was hardly anything, right? Especially if they were bad people. Did the world really need bad people in it?

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, Chara,” he swore. “I promise.”

It never occurred to him that he had already broken that promise by letting Chara hurt themselves.

\---

“Chara! No!” Asriel wails. “I don’t want you to die! Don’t leave me!”

“Haha... I thought you hated me...?”

“I didn’t mean it!! I didn’t mean a word, Chara, I swear! I was just upset because I thought _you_ hated _me_!”

“Sorry... I don’t hate you, Ree... I love you more... than anyone... So go back--to who you used to be...” They wheeze and cough. “You have a SOUL now. You can be ‘Asriel’ again. This world will suffer... as long as ‘Flowey’ and ‘Chara’ exist, so... let them die.”

“No, I won’t! I refuse! You can’t give up! You can’t die again! Wh-what--what should I do?! What should _we_ do?! There’s got to be a way for us to save you!!”

“Ree... thanks. But I can’t tell you what to do anymore. I never should’ve in the first place. Listen to Frisk instead, okay...? They’ll guide you right...”

“No...” He grabs their hand and holds it to his petals. “No, no, no!”

This Is Stupid, says the third one. Just Grab The Soul And You’ll Be Fine. Do It!

_Hello there. Something the matter?_

Ha Ha, Very Funny. Stop Being So Dramatic. It’s Getting On My Nerves.

_Dramatic?_

Are You Really Going To Let Yourself Die Right In Front Of Asriel? You Know How Badly That Will Hurt Him? He Might Never Recover.

_He has Frisk with him. He’ll be okay._

You’re Abandoning Frisk! You Think They’ll Forgive You For Breaking Your Promise?

_They have Asriel with them. They’ll be okay._

Enough Already! You’re Not So Selfless That You Can Accept Being Alone Forever.

_You’re right. I’m not. But I’m not alone. You’ll be with me to the very end, remember? So I have_ you _._

...Wait A-- Oh No. You Don’t Mean--

_Haha... hahahaha. Hahahahahha..._ They bare their teeth in a wide and bloody smile. _About 50% of anything I do is motivated by spite. And don’t I deserve to get revenge?_

You Can’t Just Drag Me Down With You! Chara, That’s Enough. Chara, Stop! Chara, STOP!

But they ignore the third one and brush their fingertips on Flowey. If 50% is spite, then the other half of their motivation is...

“Dear God... please look, into my heart... and don’t let, my life, end in vain... but use my body... for the good, and happiness, of all...” They suck in a deep, rattling breath. It’s time for Scorpio to burn. “Asriel... Frisk... I’m sorry. I love you. Goodbye.”

Then they breathe out and lie still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Loveinthebones for their [chapter 27 fanart](http://loveinthebones.tumblr.com/post/141070056622/man-how-long-has-it-been-since-i-attempted-to)!
> 
> The general tone of this chapter takes inspiration from the anime _Mawaru-Penguindrum_ by Kunihiko Ikuhara. Nothing specific is quoted or referenced, though, beyond that both _MPD_ and _SP_ share lots of references to _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ (see below).
> 
> Supposedly other _Undertale_ fanfics and fancomics have had the FIGHT button get destroyed, but at the time that I came up with the idea, I hadn't been aware of any other story or comic doing it. Any resemblence this sequence has to any other _UT_ fanwork is thus a coincidence.
> 
> "“Dear God... please look, into my heart... and don’t let, my life, end in vain... but use my body... for the good, and happiness, of all...” They suck in a deep, rattling breath. It’s time for Scorpio to burn." This is a quote and reference to _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ by Kenji Miyazawa. In case anyone wants to read _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ , the translation that Chara read last chapter is available online for free [here](http://www.cyberspace.org/~n8rxs/main.htm). Scorpio appears at the beginning of chapter 9, part 3.


	28. Don't Let Go

“Dear God... please look, into my heart... and don’t let, my life, end in vain... but use my body... for the good, and happiness, of all...” Chara sucks in a deep, rattling breath. “Asriel... Frisk... I’m sorry. I love you. Goodbye.”

Then they breathe out and lie still.

Everyone stills with them. Frisk; Flowey; Sans on the other side of the vine cage. For an instant, it’s as if time has stopped.

Frisk knows the quote well. They themselves had told Chara that they reminded them a little of Scorpio. How Chara found and read a copy of their favorite book, they don’t know, but it reminds them of everything they wanted to do together. It’s the final sentence of Chara completely embracing the ending Frisk wanted to write.

Meanwhile, the talk of God reminds Flowey of how he and Chara swore that they’d become the angel together; that they’d save all the monsters _together_ ; that if he really didn’t want to kill anyone, he should have put his foot down and insisted. He should have stopped Chara’s plan before it even got started, rather than letting their life end in vain.

As for Sans... he and Chara hadn’t exactly been close, but they’d forged an odd sort of fellowship over the day. At least, he understands them better than he did yesterday. More to the point, he knows that Chara loved Asriel, and he knows that Chara loved Frisk. That it ended like this makes a miserable amount of sense. All he can do is accept it.

But:

« _NO!!» “NO!!_ ”

Those who live with determination never accept a wretched fate.

The SOUL blazes scarlet as tears fall freely from the flower’s eyes. Without a SOUL, borrowed or otherwise, Asriel wouldn’t be himself, but without Chara, he’d have nothing worth feeling anything for. The determination that illuminates Frisk burns through Asriel, and though he knows exactly what he’s giving up, the sacrifice he’d have to make to otherwise keep it is unacceptable.

“I won’t let you die, Chara! Not again!” Flowey shouts, then gapes his mouth wide. The SOUL, responding to both his will and their own, rushes out of him.

« _Hold on, Chara! I’m coming to SAVE you!_ » Motes of glitter light the air as Frisk’s SOUL sinks into their body.

Vines begin with wither and fall away as Flowey’s body returns to its original form, though sheer willpower lets him hang onto it long enough to deliver the body to the ground safely. Greenery crumbles, and he leans over Chara/Frisk with a worried frown, leaning back and forth as if the slightest bit of a better view will tell him if they’re alive or dead.

“C’mon... c’mon...!” he murmurs.

The red heart pulses inside the human body, strong, then weaker, weaker, until it’s gone almost completely dim.

\---

Frisk sucks in a sharp, tiny breath as they turn every which way to stare at a dark and blasted landscape rife with vines. They don’t know how they know, but they understand implicitly, as if in a dream, that this is not real: that this is a product of Chara’s dying mind, and that failure to awaken them means that they will die along with them. Perhaps it’s because their SOUL is resonating with Chara’s consciousness, because they also understand implicitly that this is what Chara chose for themselves.

Well. They’ll just have to make them un-choose it, then.

Thorns jut out from the vines that twist and curl towards a central location, over canyons and chasms and the shattered remains of a stone castle. Frisk follows them with their eyes until, on top of a column at the very center, they behold a coffin engraved with a large buttercup. As they watch, the engraved lid crumbles to ash and tumbles away, revealing...

“Chara!” they call, voice echoing oddly into the empty distance.

Chara is there, curled up inside in a bed of buttercups. They don’t stir at the sound of Frisk’s voice. It’s impossible to tell if they heard them at all.

That changes nothing, though. Their goal is right ahead of them. Though the ground is cracked and broken, the vines provide a path. How can they back down now?

Frisk climbs.

The thorns impede their progress, nipping at their bare flesh, pulling at the threads of their sweater. Though they bleed, they don’t give up. At the first chasm, tiny yellow flowers budding on the vines make blisters bulge on their hands. Though they grimace, they don’t give up. They nearly slip and fall more times than they care to count, one time over a great and vast canyon that seems more like a maw opening wide to gobble them up. Though oblivion beckons, they don’t give up. They climb back up stubbornly, choosing their steps and handholds carefully, treading on the stretches of thornless granite rubble when they can, until they can walk the path that brings them at last to Chara’s coffin.

One last trial awaits them when they reach it. Contrary to what the view from afar suggested, the vines don’t make it all the way there. There is a pool of darkness so deep that it seems more like a hole in reality that forms a moat around it. The distance isn’t too far to jump, but Chara’s coffin takes up the entire surface of the cracked column, which looks unstable to boot, and Frisk’s entire body aches. Their blisters have popped a dozen times, leaving their fingers scarred and bloody.

“Chara!” they shout. “It’s me, Frisk! Can you hear me?”

They shudder and stir, and buttercups tickle at their rosy cheeks. Their eyes crack open, and Frisk sucks in another tiny breath.

Their eyes are, like the moat around them, a pool of non-existence.

“Frisk...?” they murmur. “Why are you...”

Frisk looks up, around, and back. One of the vines is loose. They yank on it until they have enough give to pop the thorns off and tie it around their waist. Then they hook their elbow around the top and reach out for Chara.

“I came here for you!” they call. “Take my hand!”

Chara stares down at their fingers. So much of Frisk’s flesh has been stripped by their blisters that there’s more blood than skin. “You need to go back,” the murmur urgently. “You’ll die if you stay.”

“I’m not leaving without you!”

They sit up a little. “Go back! I’m not worth it!”

But Frisk only grits their teeth and keeps stretching out an injured hand to them. Their grip on the vine that serves as their safety line slips a little.

Below them, the void opens a single red eye and smiles. Oh, Good! _Le Petit Prince_ Is Here To Save Us!

Chara grinds their teeth, pitch bubbling and dripping from their eye sockets. “Frisk! Go! Back!!” they shout, gripping the edge of their coffin. “Even if your body manages not to die, if you bring me with you, _she’ll_ have access to our world again! Is that what you want?!”

“Don’t care!” Frisk shouts back, their entire body trembling with sustained effort.

If You Don’t Go With Them, You’ll Drag Them Down With You, the third one points out. Is That What _You_ Want, Chara? Did You Want Your Spite To Sting Them Too?

Chara hesitates. The flow of murk from their eyes speeds up.

You Thought You Were Doing Good, But You Really Just Made Things Worse. Story Of Your Life, Huh?

“Sh-shut up.”

Go Back, Chara. Before Frisk Pays The Ultimate Price--Just Like Asriel Did.

“Stop it!” They bang a fist on the side of their coffin. “Frisk! You heard her! Stop!! I--I don’t want you to die!”

“Then come with me!”

“You’re not _listening_ to me!! Why don’t any of you ever listen?!”

“Why won’t _you_ listen?!”

A loud rumble shakes the land, and Frisk yelps as some of the cliff below them gives way, dropping them a couple inches. Chara claps their hands over their mouth, as if sucked in by their involuntary, horrified gasp. Even so, Frisk regains their composure and their footing and holds their hand out again.

“Whatever we have to deal with, we’ll deal with it together! I promise!” they call. “So hurry! Take my hand and come back with me!”

“Why...?” Chara grips the edge of the coffin and leans forward. “Why are you trying so hard for me? Just let me do something worthwhile with my life for once. I can drag the third one to the void with me. Neither of us will ever bother your world again!”

“I don’t care! It’s not worth it if you aren’t here!”

Chara shakes their head violently. “But I’ve done nothing but cause you pain!! It’s my fault you lost your body! Why would you take such a huge chance for me again?!”

“Because I be-leaf in you... so don’t be-reaving me!”

Their blackened eyes widen... and then they blink twice, smiling warmly as cloudy tears spill down their cheeks and begin to take the darkness with them. God! What a pun! They laugh, or maybe sob, or maybe both at once. Frisk grins as they wipe their face on their sleeves.

Sans was right. They _do_ understand comedy.

“Okay,” Chara whispers, then takes a deep breath and repeats, “Okay.” They lift a hand and glance nervously down at the void. It offers no resistance, but the land rumbles and crumbles again, and their coffin begins to list to one side. They square their shoulders and lean out, hand outstretched to Frisk. Something tugs hard at their back, and they look over their shoulder to see tendrils of buttercups. The blossoms cling to, or perhaps grow from, their back and into the coffin, anchoring them to rotting wood.

“What’s wrong?!” Frisk shouts over the groaning earth.

“Everything,” Chara replies. “But that’s par for the course!”

They yank themselves forward and feel the little vines snap one by one. Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, the two children’s fingertips grow closer and closer until they just brush against each other. More and more of the sludge that darkens Chara’s sclera washes away with their tears, streaking their face. A thundering crash rolls through the land, and the earth crumbles apart. The coffin lurches away, and the hands that had nearly come together begin to fall apart.

For an instant, Frisk’s face is the portrait of the agony of loss.

Then Chara plants a foot on the edge of their coffin, rips themselves forward with a fierce cry, and in an explosion of golden flower petals, springs forth into a ferocious leap. They and Frisk clasp each others’s wrists at the same time, and they swing violently together as the coffin breaks into pieces and tumbles into the void.

“Don’t let go,” Frisk whispers, hair and tears framing their relieved smile.

Chara smiles back. The last of the darkness washes from their now soft red eyes by their own stream of tears. “I won’t,” they whisper in kind, meeting their gaze.

The void breathes up around them, and a sudden weightlessness lets the two of them draw close together into a tight embrace and kick up high into the air. Over the sound of destruction hums the melody of a music box, and the landscape below goes white.

\---

At some point during his many resets, Flowey had realized there were gradations of nothing. There was the nothing he felt after weeks with Asgore, where it was like waiting in line for an appointment that never calls your name and ultimately deciding that your time is better spent elsewhere. The nothing he felt with Toriel was like getting softly, gently wrapped up in fuzzy blankets and being told a long and earnest story about something you don’t care about. The nothing when he realized Chara had been ignoring him had been like a horrible something looming over him to rip him to shreds while he’s too paralyzed to run away.

As he waits helplessly, and increasingly hopelessly, with nothing but his own humming of an old tune to keep himself calm, he finds the nothing he feels as he stares at the still human body is a drained nothing beyond weariness or disappointment. This is the nothing of pouring time and effort into completing a difficult and major school project and, just after you’ve handed it in, realizing that you’d done it wrong.

The worst part is, he can feel himself hollow out as he watches the red heart dim, dim, dim until it’s gone out altogether. All he’d sacrificed has gone to waste. Watching Chara die again--watching Frisk die with them--scrapes away at even his will to seek out the interesting to keep himself entertained, and his humming peters off. He hasn’t been this bad since... yes, since he attempted suicide. Will his determination “save” him again? Or will he finally get to rest? If he feels anything at all, it’s dread at the prospect of continuing on through the desert of existence after tasting complete personhood again and having that taste turn to sand in his mouth.

Though, if he were inclined to care, he’d be astounded how quickly his despair blows away when the human’s fingers twitch.

“Chara? Frisk? Are you in there?” He nudges their face with his own. “Please don’t leave me here alone...!”

The anticipation is awful. He holds his breath without thinking as he searches their face for signs of life. His reward is the shift of their lips, the flutter of their eyelashes, the curl of their fingers. Though what it inspires in in him is a half-burnt ember compared to the rising sun he knows it’s supposed to be, an ember is still enough to warm the hands of a boy used to wandering frozen wastelands.

“It’s you!” he whispers, eyes gleaming bright. “Erm... which you is it?”

Their hand shakes, and their lips form words. He leans in closer to hear.

“What was that?”

He still can’t quite hear. The human’s hand encircles him as if to draw him in, and he leans in further.

“ _What_?”

Their mouth pulls into a wide, wide grin.

\---

For a moment, all is still. Then:

Ahaha... Ahaha... The third one’s nervous laughter echoes through the pale void. Whew, That Was A Close One. Well, Then, Children, It’s Time To Go Back.

Chara clings to Frisk, and Frisk holds them back.

“I don’t want you being mean to Chara anymore,” Frisk states.

Sorry?

“And you’re not allowed to touch Frisk,” Chara adds flatly.

Haha, Wow. Oh, That’s Cute. Seriously Though, We’re Going Back.

Both continue to glare into the void, Frisk unyielding, Chara hostile.

“You tried to eat me,” Frisk points out.

“You seized control of me,” Chara snaps.

Yeah, And?

“And I want an apology,” Frisk says reproachfully.

“And I hate you. I want you to die,” Chara snarls.

Life Isn’t Fair, Is It? So Often We Don’t Get What We Want. A humanoid shape pools up before them from somewhere below. But If You Want To FIGHT About It, I’m Game.

Frisk and Chara share a glance. Then they pull apart to stand side-by-side, hand-in-hand, as a bright red heart materializes before the two united.

Ooo, So We Are? Fine By Me! the third one crows, lifting her arms. But I Should Warn You: _I_ Will Win. Ahahaha! Ahahahaha--

\---

Flowey’s answer comes in the form of those lips pressing on top of his head. When he rears back to stare, they just keep grinning as a pool of ultra-darkness wisps from their body and flees into the shadows.

“Your petals look _so_ cute,” they croak. “ _Sooo_ cute.”

He laughs breathlessly, smiles, unsmiles, smiles again, and leans on them. “Hi, Frisk. Um... Is Chara...?”

They pause, then avert their eyes and purse their lips. Flowey’s insides freeze.

“No,” he whispers. “No, they can’t be...”

They bow their head.

“Frisk, what happened?!” he demands. “You were going to save them! I was counting on you! What _happened_?”

They shake a little, and he leans in. He realizes that the shaking is due to them snickering a second before they reach out a finger and press it to the center of his face.

“ _Boop_ ,” says Chara with a mischievous grin.

Flowey gawks at them, then sputters. “I can’t--I can’t _believe_ you! Gosh! Seriously, stop tricking me...!”

But the fake anger he tries to muster crumbles away as he starts to giggle. Chara laughs with him. Their mirth echoes and entwines together as he drapes himself on their head and they curl their arms around his stem.

“I don’t want to let go...” he whispers, eyes shut.

“Me neither,” Chara and Frisk whisper back in one voice.

Silence, comfortable as a worn and familiar security blanket, wraps the three of them up in warmth for several moments. For the first time in ages, Flowey doesn’t need to do anything or watch anything be done to be satisfied: just existing together with them is enough.

Then a presence makes him raise his head, and he sees Sans standing a few feet away, watching them. It occurs to him far too late that a) all the vegetation withering after he gave up Frisk’s SOUL meant that nothing would have barred the skeleton from just walking right in, and b) even if it had, he was right there and must have seen the whole thing. Red-faced and with a loud and shrieky squawk, Flowey slams himself back underground.

“Wow. Yikes,” Sans utters. “No need to roll out the red carpet or anything.” He returns his attention to the human, still lying face-down on the ground, and kneels down next to them to rest a hand on their shoulder and give them a cautious shake. “Hey, kiddos, you okay?”

They stir and turn their head towards him, hair falling over their face and along their neck. They cough a little--a dry cough, thank god--and whisper, “Sans...?”

He breathes out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. You two had me scared me half to death.”

They giggle breathlessly, and it occurs to him that he made a pun without meaning to. Far be it for him to deny credit for it, though. He smiles back at them and wraps an arm around their back, helping them upright. They accept his help, and as they all wobble up to their feet, their smile is that familiar, squinty, near-deadpan one he’s come to know so well. It feels like he hasn’t seen it in forever.

“Welcome back, Frisk,” he rumbles.

They squeeze his forearm. “I’m back,” they whisper.

He slips their arm over his head and across his shoulders, and lets them lean on him as they all turn toward the door out. “Let’s get you and Chara somewhere warm and safe, kid. Your body still looks like it’s been through the wringer, and I bet you could use a nap.”

They laugh creakily, nod, and walk out with him, footsteps slow but sure.

\---

Looking Back, I Should’ve Noticed The Warning Signs When They Stopped Capitalizing My Pronouns, the Player reflects. That Was Careless Of Me.

Gaster stands next to her, hands clasped, as the two of them watch Toriel walk out of Home and begin her daily trip through the Ruins. She, of course, pays the two no mind, being unable to sense either of them in any way. “(Your mistakes started far before then.)”

She shrugs. Ehhn, You Live And Learn.

“(Clearly you have not learned enough,)” Gaster retorts, hand-signs adding emphasis that his spoken words do not. “(You need to stop, Player.)”

Whatever, Old Man. I Know What I’m Doing.

“(Ah, so your latest expulsion from your host’s body was planned, then.)”

She snorts, then begins to follow Toriel into the Ruins. Are You Sassing Me? That’s Pretty Funny, Given How _You_ Got Yourself Expelled From Reality Itself.

“(That is precisely why I tell you to stop,)” he replies, moving in kind. “(I may have committed the same sins, but that does not make me interested in mutual wound-licking.)”

Ah, There We Disagree. I Don’t Think There’s Anything Wrong With Curiosity. It’s The Soul Of Science, After All.

“(...You have no intention of heeding my warning.)”

None Whatsoever! There’s Something I’m Here To Do, And I’m Not Leaving Until It’s Done. You Can Attack Me If You Want, But You Know It’ll Only Delay The Inevitable.

“(You cannot defeat those children. You’ve already failed twice.)”

Haha, Yeah, They Sure Whipped Me. That Was Pretty Fun, Actually. Just Like Getting Beaten Up By Sans. Your Sons Are On Another Level, You Know That? Alphys, Too.

Gaster’s good eye narrows. “(Trying to change the subject, are we?)”

Who, Me? Awww, But We’re Just Two Doting Parents, Praising Each Other’s Darling Kids. That Was So Sweet, Those Last Words You Left For Them, By The Way. Do You Think You’ll Ever Get To See Each Other Again?

He sighs, faint annoyance lacing his breath. “(Mock me if you wish, but I’m afraid I gave up on going back a long time ago,)” he replies. “(Alphys has made enormous strides with the help of her friends, and Sans and Papyrus have her and each other now. It’s enough that we were able to speak to one another, however briefly. They all can live without me, and I can live with the disappointment.)”

The Player is momentarily distracted when a little yellow flower pops up in front of Toriel and makes her take a half-step back in surprise. Uh Huh, Uh Huh, she says. She looks back at him. Then Is There A Reason I Shouldn’t?

Gaster frowns, one eye on her, one on Flowey as he shouts something urgent at the former queen. “(Beg pardon?)”

The Player presses a nub to her mouth and titters, partly at Gaster, partly at the shock that spreads over Toriel’s expression like gangrene. What I’m Getting At Is, Does The Fact That _I’m_ Not Nervous Make _You_ Nervous?

He considers lying, but sees no point. “(I should think that obvious. Your meddling with the code of this world has caused many problems as is, and--what is so amusing?)”

As Toriel races past Flowey out of the room towards the far end of the Ruins, the Player doubles over with laughter. Oh, I Can’t Help It! You’ve Misunderstood Everything So Completely, And It’s Hilarious!

Gaster shifts a half-turn away from her. “(What do you mean?)”

Hmmm... Shall I Reveal The Awful Truth...? She straightens up, still grinning, now both nubs pressed to her scarlet smile. I Actually Have No Interest Whatsoever In Code.

Gaster’s eyes widen.

\---

Flowey watches Toriel race for the ends of the Ruins with a sensation somewhere between relief and vague disappointment. Then he turns around to peer at an empty-seeming corner of the room. Something’s been itching his stem, so he calls, “Who’s there?”

But nobody responds.

He frowns, and frowns hard, but a distinct unease makes him decide not to press it. Instead, he burrows underground to head for Chara’s grave and leave the void behind.

\---

END of ARC 2 -CHARA-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dear God... please look, into my heart... and don’t let, my life, end in vain... but use my body... for the good, and happiness, of all..." Like last chapter, Chara is quoting _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ by Kenji Miyazawa.
> 
> The dream sequence where Frisk saves Chara from the coffin takes heavy inspiration from _Revolutionary Girl Utena_ with specific parallels to episode nine and the finale, and also takes aesthetic inspiration (i.e. the vines and the castle) from the finale of the opening arc of the fifth season of _Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon_.
> 
> "Oh, Good! _Le Petit Prince_ Is Here To Save Us!" The Player is referencing _The Little Prince_ by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, which was established in chapter 3 as one of Chara's favorite books.
> 
> "(I may have committed the same sins, but that does not make me interested in mutual wound-licking.)" Gaster is paraphrase-quoting Jade Curtiss from _Tales of the Abyss_.
> 
> "Hmmm... Shall I Reveal The Awful Truth...? I Actually Have No Interest Whatsoever In Code." The Player is paraphrase-quoting Akio Ohtori from _Revolutionary Girl Utena_.


	29. Arc 3 -??????-: I May Never Be Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -??????- begins.
> 
> Two weeks after their confrontation with the otherworldly Player, Frisk and Chara have recovered. Things have been so calm it makes Chara uneasy, but Frisk is ready to resume, and hopefully complete, their journey. However, before that, there's a promise they need to keep: to have a certain fancy date with a certain grumpy flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to RL being a lot busier than it was while I was writing Arcs 1 and 2, Arc 3 will update every other weekend. If/when things ease up for me, at that point, I'll try to update more often, but for now this is how it is. Thanks for your patience.

The savory smell of hot stew permeates through Home, teasing Sans out of slumber. He eases one eye open, then the other, then slides off the stuffed easy chair he’s been crashing on since Toriel brought him here with a badly injured Frisk in tow. Then he shuffles into the kitchen, where Toriel stirs a wooden spoon in a large pot.

“Oh! Good morning, Sans,” she says, turning a smile at him. “I hope I did not wake you.”

He yawns, making sure to cover his mouth with one hand. Before coming here, he wouldn’t have bothered. “Nah, you’re fine,” he replies, then winks. “So, I take it that’s breakfast?”

“Indeed it is. I hope you enjoy snail stew.”

“It _snails_ pretty good, at least.”

She chortles. “If it is not to your taste, I am sure you will love it in no _slime_.”

He snickers back and leans on the wall. Normally he hates mornings, but there’s nothing like a good joke swap to wake a skeleton up. “Hey, I’ve had plenty of snail these past two weeks. I _shell_ come it now.”

Her chortles turn into guffaws. When she calms, with a merry smile and a twinkle in her eyes, she says, “Well, that is enough of that for now. I must say, it has been a true delight to have you here, Sans.”

“Aw, thanks, Tori. And thanks for letting me stay.”

“But of course! I know you do not live very far away, but...” Her smile fades and she glances towards the doorway. “Well, with the door to the Ruins broken, I feel somewhat... vulnerable. I do not know what I would do if anything happened to Frisk while I were out on errands.” She looks back at him and her smile revives. “I know that Papyrus has agreed to keep anyone from wandering near, but it still reassures me, knowing that you are here personally to watch over them.”

“Heh. It’s the least I could do, and I got experience keeping an eye out for humans.”

His perpetual smile dims a bit as he digs his hands in his pockets. Thanks to Toriel’s healing magic, Frisk’s recovered a lot since then, but... well, it was a pretty close thing. Scary, what running around soulless will do to a body. The effort of less than a day cost at least two weeks of recovery, even with magic.

“Man, though,” he adds. “I know I said this before, but it sure was lucky that you came by when you did.”

“Indeed. I shudder to think what might have happened had I come any later. They were in such poor shape... My goodness, but it was a shock to see them again. It is a good thing that you decided to investigate the broken door.” She breathes out a sigh, then gives him a soft smile. “An even better thing that the one who discovered it was the one monster who promised to protect that child.”

“Yeah,” he replies, remembering the excuse he handed her for why he’d been in the Ruins in the first place. It wasn’t even a lie, technically; the door to the Ruins really had been forced open. Their first face-to-face run-in had been a close thing, too, until he and Toriel had recognized each other’s voices. “Well, at least they’re doing better now. It’s been good seeing them start to run around again these past couple days.”

“Indeed it has.” She spoons some of the snail stew into a small dish and taste-tests it, then nods and sets the spoon back in the pot. “Though, I have not seen the little flower that alerted me to what had happened since then... I still wish I could have thanked them when I had the chance.”

Sans vividly remembers the warm surprise on Frisk’s face when they’d heard a “little flower” had told her they’d fallen down and needed help, just before they passed out in Toriel’s arms: a not exactly factual summary of events, even if it was a call for help on their behalf all the same. He also remembers what Alphys told him about Flowey’s true identity... and how that connects to Frisk’s passenger. All considered, although someone ought to tell Toriel, it’s not really his place to bring her up to speed.

“Well,” he says, “they’ve gotta be around somewhere. If I happen to spot ‘em, I’ll tell ‘em you were thinking about ‘em.”

She smiles at him again. “Thank you, Sans. You are always so sweet.”

“Nahhh,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his skull and grinning a little harder.

“But you are!” she insists, stirring the stew again. “It was you who pointed out that I was not calling Frisk by name and wondered if I knew their name at all.” Her smile turns rueful and more than a little melancholy. “It was quite thoughtful of you... and thoughtless of me. I wonder if that child would have said a thing had you not.”

He rubs his skull some more and decides not to contradict this point too. She’d probably just insist harder, and it’d get awkward fast.

She takes another sip of the stew, nods firmly, and extinguishes the magical flames under the pot. “Breakfast is ready,” she informs him. “I will handle setting places for all of us, so could you kindly do one thing for me, Sans?”

“What’s up?”

A sparkle returns to her eyes. “Please, could you escar- _go_ wake Frisk?”

He snickers. “I dunno--I’m feelin’ kinda _sluggish_.” He winks, turns for the doorway, and adds, “Just _chitin_!”

Her uproarious laughter follows him out of the kitchen, bolstering his mood immensely. Yes. _Snailed_ it. He could take a shortcut to the bedroom, but eh, he actually feels like going the long way for once. Granted, the long way is a whole twenty seconds longer of a trip, but it’s the thought that counts.

Once he reaches the kid’s door, he knocks. There’s no response. He knocks again louder. “Hey, Frisk?” he calls. “Breakfast’s ready. Up and at ‘em.”

Still no response. Maybe they’re just sleeping in, or maybe... Well, it can’t hurt to take a peek inside. Just in case.

The door isn’t locked; none of them are in this place. He eases inside and heads over to the kid’s bedside. The blankets are bunched up, but Sans knows this trick. He pulls them up, preparing himself to see toys or old clothes in a vaguely human-shaped lump underneath.

So he’s actually kind of surprised to see the kid, curled up. They tilt their head back, one eye peering up at him from under their hair.

“Mornin’, kiddo,” Sans says.

“Ah, my old nemesis: the linear progression of time. We meet again.” And then they pull the covers away from Sans and yank them back over their head.

Sans laughs and tucks his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, bucko, but if you’re awake enough to crack a joke, you’re awake enough to crack your eyelids. C’mon. Toriel’s ladling out breakfast as we speak. Don’t wanna miss out on that snail stew, do ya?”

They grumble and groan and gripe, but soon enough, they slither out from under the sheets and flow onto the floor. Sans takes a step back to allow them room.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he remarks as they take a moment to just lie there. “Sup, Chara?”

They eye him from their spot on the floor. “How do you always just _know_?”

“Frisk isn’t nearly that witty in the morning. Or that cranky. They okay?”

“Yeah... Hold on. I’ll wake them up.” They sit up to lean on the bed and loll their head back, eyes shut. A moment later, the human stirs again, yawning and blinking blearily. Those blinks soon turn into a squinty stare around their spot on the floor, though given that they don’t look confused long, Chara probably brings them up to speed from the inside, as it were.

“Mornin’, Frisk,” Sans says. “Hope you’re hungry for snail stew.”

They yawn again and nod, then wobble upright. Sans watches them closely in case they fall over, but it turns out he doesn’t need to worry; they balance themselves on the edge of the bed and stand.

“So, something up with Chara?” he murmurs to them.

Frisk nods, rubbing their eyes.

“Should I ask?”

They tilt their head, probably to inquire within. “They’re worried about the Player,” they explain, voice low. “We haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Mmm. Guess the flush of victory finally wore off, huh.”

“We haven’t seen Flowey in a while, either.”

“ _Ah_.”

Frisk pauses, then smiles a little. “They said, ‘Don’t make that noise like it explains everything.’”

Sans chuckles. “Don’t say stuff that explains everything, then.”

Frisk tilts their head and gives him an inquisitive look. Speaking for themselves now, then. Sans pauses.

“Something eating you, kid?”

“Have you seen...?”

They don’t finish the question, but that’s enough for him to reasonably guess the rest. “The Player or Flowey?” When they nod, he continues, “Nope. But I don’t get the sense that either of them like me much, so I doubt they’d show up in front of me.”

Frisk considers this, then breaks into a snicker fit. “Chara says, ‘Oh, so you’re like one of those scented anti-mosquito torches.’”

“Those what now?”

Frisk tilts their head. “...Oh. Maybe that’s a human thing?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. If you’re right, though, then sticking around me might keep you safer.”

Frisk giggles again.

“What now?”

“They said, ‘Oh no, an excuse to hang around Sans more. How awful. Whatever shall we do.’”

Sans laughs and tousles their hair. Frisk grins and leans into the touch.

“Glad to hear you’re in a better mood, kiddos,” he says. “Now c’mon. Toriel’s probably wondering where the heck we are by now.”

Frisk brightens and nods, and together they shuffle out of the room and towards the dining room.

\---

After breakfast, Frisk helps Toriel clear the table and clean the dishes. Rubbing drying towels on the wet dishes in expanding circles is soothing, and the kitchen is nice and warm and they feel safe around Toriel. It’s funny to think that they do, considering she’s attacked them multiple times over the course of their resets, but so has almost every monster they’ve ever encountered. When they think about it, many of them didn’t mean to hurt them. They were just overenthusiastic, or didn’t understand that they weren’t a monster too, or thought they were helping. Even the ones who _did_ try to hurt them ended up leaving them peacefully.

And the more they think about that, the more the Underground feels like home to them, and the monsters like an enormous extended family. One of the best parts is that all the monsters seem to know without being told, maybe because there’s lots of them like that too, that they’re neither a girl nor a boy--something adult humans consistently had immense troubles with.

Not that they think anyone meant any _harm_ by it. But... it was just so tiring, telling people that no, they aren’t a boy, and no, they aren’t a girl either, and then struggling to find the words to explain when this inevitably met with confusion. When they eventually realized none of the adults were taking them seriously anyway, they stopped trying to explain it and started letting people assume what they wanted. It’s always been easier that way.

_Ahh, adventures in misgendering. My favorite,_ Chara remarks dryly.

_You had a lot of problems with that too, huh?_ Frisk wonders.

_Mmhmm. When I was in second grade, I told everyone I was non-binary. My parents claimed I was making stuff up because I’d read too many books. Naturally, everyone listened to them and not to me. I got so fed up with it that one day at school, when this kid was making fun of me for it, I snapped and stabbed him._

_Seriously?!_

_...with a pencil._

_Geez! Don’t scare me like that, Chara!_

_Heh heh heh. He really shouldn’t have tried to start something with me when I was at the pencil sharpener, but at least I got my_ point _across._

_Oh my god, Chara._ They pause. _That’s awful, though. That you got made fun of, I mean. At least most other kids believed me when I told them. Even they didn’t believe you...?_

_Who knows? If anybody did, they never bothered to defend me, so they can go to hell for all I care._

_I’m sorry..._

_Huh? What for?_

_If I’d been there... I don’t know if I would’ve defended you either. I think I would’ve been too scared to, if nobody else believed me._

_Well, that’s... That’s you, Frisk. You’re the same as me. That doesn’t count. You have to protect yourself._

_You don’t think there were other kids who were like us, too?_

Chara pauses, and Frisk can feel their surprise; it looks like they hadn’t. _I..._ Then, palpably setting that thought aside, they continue with a certain manic black-humor cheer, _A-anyway, it was pretty satisfying. My reward was a day’s suspension from school and an hour’s beatings at home, but nobody at school messed with me after that._

Frisk lets it go to consider this. _...Did anybody_ talk _to you after that?_

_Nope! But that was just fine by me. I hated them all, anyway._

_...I’m sorry you had to go through that, Chara._

_Thanks. I’m sorry you had to put up with all those dumb adults, Frisk._

They smile a little. _There’s some better adults now, at least._ Frisk glances up at Toriel to punctuate the thought, and she notices and smiles down at them. They return it, then hand her their now-dry plate and lean into her dress.

“Are you tired, my child? That was not too much activity for you, was it?” she wonders, setting the last dish in the pantry.

They shake their head, then raise their arms. Though they express no explicit desire, she kneels down and picks them up, supporting their legs with one arm and cradling their back with the other. They lean into her and shut their eyes. Yes. This is exactly why they feel safe around her. Given the soft powder blue of Chara’s calm, they imagine they agree.

She carries them to the easy chair and sits with them in her lap. When she offers to read with them, they nod their agreement, and she asks Sans, still leaning back on his chair at the table, to pick a book for them all to enjoy. It’s an implicit invitation to join them, one neither Frisk nor Chara mind, and he pulls his chair over and saunters over to the bookcase.

Toriel and Sans end up taking turns reading a book on geology ( _Now that’s a rock fact!_ Chara says, then cackles for some reason), and Frisk contentedly listens to them both. They wish, not for the first time, that Chara had managed to bring Alphys’s copy of _Night on the Galactic Railroad_ with them when they’d come to the Ruins, but they know Chara had bigger concerns that night. At least they brought them up to speed on that story on the secret of the resets, after guiltily confessing that they’d told more to Sans while Frisk weren’t around. They look forward to when they all get a good chance to hear the end.

After reading and learning, the three of them head out together to do some errands. Toriel almost doesn’t let them come along, since they haven’t been out on a long walk since they returned to the Ruins, but Sans takes their side and she relents. She seems happy about it, too. Frisk wonders if she actually wanted the company. Chara suspects that’s the case.

First, they take Toriel’s daily trip to Chara’s grave (though at no point does she ever or has she ever told them that’s what it is) to check for any fallen humans and tend to the flower patch, which seems curiously sunken. Chara’s feelings as they watch her through Frisk’s eyes are indescribable. While they wait, they search for, gather up, and pocket the shattered remains of Chara’s knife.

“Frisk?” Toriel calls, approaching them. “What is it you have there?”

“Oh--” they utter, looking up at her and Sans. “Um, here.”

Her expression changes when she sees the fragments of the worn dagger; Frisk thinks it’s not unlike when they stabbed her the last timeline. “Oh...” Her eyes rest on the locket hanging around their neck, and she forces a smile as she glances away briefly. “D-did this happen when you were injured, my child?”

They nod. It’s true enough.

“That must have been such a traumatizing experience... I only wish that I had arrived sooner, so I could have prevented it in the first place.”

“No, it’s okay,” they insist quietly.

“Yeah. You saved their life, Tori,” Sans pipes up, strolling over to join them. “That’s more than enough.”

Her smile turns sincere, if rueful. “Thank you, Sans.”

“Um... Mom?”

“Y-yes, Frisk?”

They hesitate, listening to the words within their SOUL. Then they hold out the pieces of the dagger to her. “Could you... would you be able to fix this for me with your fire magic?”

“Fix it?” she echoes, startled.

“Right. But not into a knife. Into... into something different.”

“...What did you have in mind?”

They listen, then repeat, “A trowel, or a spade, if that’s okay. Something good for gardening.”

Tears dampen the corners of her eyes, and she furtively brushes them away. “I... I was not aware you had such an interest, Frisk.”

They look over at the tiny garden, which--yes, has definitely sunken for some reason. “Someone has to take care of the flowers.”

“I... Yes, this is true.” Her smile turns tender and affectionate, and she holds out her paws. “I am no blacksmith, but I will see what I can do, my child.”

Their eyes flicker, but their smile doesn’t abate. When they hand over the fragments of the blade, it’s Chara in control, and remains that way when they step forward to bury themselves in a hug with her.

_Now’s your chance,_ Frisk encourages as Toriel returns the gesture. _You should tell her you’re here, Chara._

Chara lets their eyes flutter shut. _Not... not yet. I want things to stay peaceful, just a little while longer._

And so when they pull away, Frisk is once again in control. They understand being afraid of rejection.

After that, they all head to the settlement at the square past the right-branching path just before returning Home. Frisk had seen the many buildings in the Ruins beyond the ledge where they’d found the toy knife, but hadn’t ever explored the city beyond, and Toriel takes them by the hand as they all descend into it. She fusses over them a bit while Sans cracks jokes, and though it’s no longer necessary, Frisk likes it all the same.

It’s a little funny. When first they’d come, they couldn’t leave fast enough because they didn’t feel like they deserved her. Now that they’ve _had_ to stay for a while, they feel like they could stay forever after all. But... in the end, they know they have to leave.

There are still things they need to do.

When they return, Frisk joins Toriel in the kitchen to help her with baking. Sans does too, but mostly just to watch, chat, and hang out. They’d requested butterscotch-cinnamon pie for lunch while they were picking up groceries, and since it’s their first day out, Toriel had agreed.

Once they’ve finished rolling out the pie crust dough together and Toriel is pinching it into a pie pan, Frisk takes a deep breath. “Mom?” 

“Yes, my child?”

“I’m a lot better now.”

Her hand stills for a second. When she resumes, she replies, “Yes. And I am glad for it.”

“I’m pretty much _all_ better.”

She sighs a little, smiling wistfully. “And you have things that you must do, yes?”

They nod.

“I admit, I had hoped our conversation earlier meant you wished to stay at least a while longer, but... we have, after all, had this discussion before.” She sets down the pan and kneels down in front of them. “May I at least question the wisdom of what you intend to do? You were hurt very badly, my child. Surely you must be afraid.”

They nod again. It doesn’t change their mind.

“...And there is no need to remain confined to the Ruins,” she adds, watching them. “Sans and Papyrus will look over you as well now, as they have been. And I understand you have other friends in the Underground as well.”

They nod once more. That just fuels their resolve.

She scrutinizes their face, then bows her head. “I see you will not be deterred. Very well. I will not stop you this time. But... may I ask when you intend to leave?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

She chuckles, wistful. “I am afraid I may never be ready.”

They reach out for her sleeve and grip it between two fingers. The look she gives them is at first nonplussed, then, when they tug on her gently, startled.

“I... Frisk, do you wish for me to come with you?”

They nod, firmly.

She hesitates.

“Why not?” Sans remarks then. “You’re just gonna sit here and worry if you don’t, Tori. Least this way you can keep an eye on ‘em yourself.”

Frisk nods enthusiastically.

Toriel smiles. “That is true... Oh, but--” She presses a hand to her mouth in concern. “What if another human child falls down?”

“Me and Papyrus can keep an eye out for you. It shouldn’t be hard if we take turns.”

Frisk looks over their shoulder at Sans with raised eyebrows; they’re a little surprised he would offer. He catches their look and shrugs.

“Trust me, my brother would go nuts over the chance to make a new human friend. He’s wild about you, after all.”

They grin and duck their head, somewhere between pleased and embarrassed.

“That _is_ reassuring,” Toriel admits, chuckling a bit. “All right. Please let me think about it while I forge you a trowel tonight. I will inform you of my decision by tomorrow morning.”

They squeeze her hand and smile. That’s fine. There’s still something left for them to do here in the Ruins, anyway.

She squeezes their hand back and stands up. “Well then, this pie will not bake itself! I am sure you do not want to wait overlong for your slice, either. Shall we resume?”

Their smile becomes a grin, and they hop over to the fridge to get the ingredients for the filling. As they fill their arms and pass the milk, eggs, and so on onto the counter, something else comes into view, and they pause--for Chara’s interest has been piqued.

“Is that a chocolate bar?” they ask.

“It is, my child, but if you eat a snack now, you will ruin your appetite for pie,” Toriel chides them gently.

“May I have it for later, then?”

She pauses again, and they meet each other’s eyes across the kitchen. For a moment, Frisk wonders if she’s realized the truth; then she lowers her head, one hand on her chest.

“Yes... Yes, I suppose there is no good in leaving it forever in the fridge,” she murmurs. “You may have it, so long as you do indeed leave it for later.”

“Thank you!” They pluck the bar up with a smile and tuck it into their pocket. _Chocolate! Just like I promised, Chara! It’s all yours tonight, okay?_ they declare as they shut the fridge and rejoin Toriel. However, they get no response. _...Chara?_

_Oh--sorry._ A teardrop blue of faint sadness tinges their companion’s thoughts, but it soon warms into affectionate gratitude’s goldenrod. _Thanks, Frisk. You’re the best._

_You’re welcome,_ they reply, and decide to leave it at that. It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out what that was about, after all.

\---

Leaves crunch and crinkle underfoot as Frisk circles the dead tree in front of Home. “Flowey? Flowey...” they call, a plate with a fork and a slice of pie in hand. “Flooowweeeyyy...”

Chara makes no remark, but Frisk can feel their low-key nervous anticipation like a plucked bass chord. When no one heeds their call, they sigh a little. They’d thought Flowey might be watching them from afar, but... Just in case, they steel themselves, then turn around.

“BOO!!” Flowey shrieks, tongue lolling from a mouth of broken teeth.

“Hi, Flowey,” Frisk replies. “I was looking for you.”

He turns his face back to normal, if mildly peevish. “You could at least _pretend_ to be scared.”

“But I brought you something and then I might drop it.” They squat and hold out the plate of pie. “Want it?”

Flowey looks like he’s about to snap something rude, but he pauses and cranes forward to get a better look. “...Is that butterscotch-cinnamon pie?”

They nod. “I helped make it.”

He looks up to study their face. Then he glances to one side. “I don’t have arms, remember?”

Frisk picks up the fork, stabs off the end, and holds it out for him.

Flowey peers at them, then at the pie on the end of the fork; then he leans forward and carefully bites it off. After a moment, he swallows.

“Pretty good,” he admits.

They beam, then offer him another forkful.

After he eats it, he asks, “So what were you calling me for?”

“I haven’t seen you around. I missed you.”

Flowey doesn’t answer right away, and he takes extra-long to chew the next bite of pie. “I’ve been around,” he eventually mumbles. “You just never saw me.”

Frisk sets the plate down, lies on their stomach, and offers him another forkful of pie and an inquisitive look.

He accepts the former and ignores the latter. “So, how d’you like sleeping in my old bed?”

Frisk thinks about this and the many, many ways in which to answer poorly, then winks. “I’d like it better if you were there with me.”

Flowey nearly chokes on his next bite of pie. Chara _does_ choke, so to speak, before bursting into laughter. Frisk grins and wiggles their eyebrows.

“Sh-shut up,” he sputters. “Oh my god, you say the most embarrassing things.”

“You thought about it, didn’t you?”

“Shut up!!”

Frisk laughs in delight, then breaks off the crust with their fingers and offers it to him. He bites into it with far more force than necessary, yanking it right out of their grasp, and they swing their feet back and forth in satisfaction.

“We haven’t gone on that date yet,” they add.

He pauses and peers at them.

“You wanted a fancy one, you said. D’you still wanna go?”

He blinks twice, and to their surprise and concern, he looks dismayed. He pauses to glance to one side; then he wonders quietly, “...Is Chara there?”

Frisk confers inside and nods once.

Flowey attempts a smile. “...C-can I...?”

In response, they set down the fork and bow their head. Then they lift it, cross their hands under their chin, and give Flowey a slight, not-at-all awkward nod of greeting.

“Hi,” says Chara.

“H-hi,” says Flowey.

A not-at-all awkward moment of silence passes.

“You wanted to say something to me, right?” Chara prompts.

“Haha... ha... Y-yeah, but now my mind’s gone blank,” Flowey admits, looking away.

Chara lowers their hands. “...Have you been doing okay out there, all by yourself?”

“What? Pfft, I’m fine. I’m used to it,” he scoffs, relaxing. “I’m not some weak little crybaby anymore, Chara.”

“...I see.” They pause. “Have you... seen the Player?”

He frowns. “You mean the otherworlder, right? I thought They were back in your body?”

They shake their head. “Frisk and I kicked _her_ out two weeks ago.”

“Oh. _Oh_.”

“If you haven’t seen her, that’s fine. I’m sure she’ll pop up again exactly when nobody wants her to.”

“That could be literally anytime, then.”

Chara snorts and laughs. “True.”

Flowey straightens his stem, looking extremely pleased with himself.

They lift a hand and lean their chin on it. “...Anyway, I don’t mind if you go on a date with Frisk. It’s their body and their SOUL. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Oh! S-so, uh... it won’t be weird?”

“A date between a human with voices in their head and a soulless talking flower? Golly, what’s weird about that?”

“Be serious, Chara!!”

“I _am_ being serious. Mostly. The premise is already ridiculous. If you want me to bow out once the date actually starts, I can do that.”

“N-no, that’s... I mean, you don’t have to do that! Frisk would be lonely without you.”

Chara smiles a little. “That’s true.”

_I can go on_ one date _without you,_ Frisk argues.

_Can you? Can you really?_

Frisk is silent for a long moment; then: _...I’d rather not have to._

_That’s what I thought,_ Chara replies with wry affection. _But if you want privacy, just let me know. I can tune out until you call me back._

_Okay. Thanks, Chara._

_De nada._

“Anyway, if you want privacy, you can have it. Frisk has the same offer,” they say aloud. “Did you want to say anything else?”

His hesitation soon becomes a long silence.

“See you later, then,” they conclude, and shut their eyes.

“Wait!!” Flowey shouts. “You don’t have to go already, do you?” 

They open one eye. “Why? You don’t need me anymore, right?” They pause at the look on his face, then admit, “Well, I guess that was a mean way of putting it.” A beat. “Remember, this is Frisk’s body. I just borrow it from time to time. It’s normal for me to bow out for them.”

“...oh. Right. That’s obvious.”

Chara waits a moment longer, just in case; then they start to reach for him, hesitate, and pull their hand back without doing anything. “Have fun on your date, Ree. I mean it.”

When the child sits up, it’s with Frisk’s usual squinty stare. They tilt their head at Flowey; he’s half-wilted, and that concerns them. There isn’t much pie left, and they spear the last bite and offer it to him.

“You okay?” they wonder.

“What?” He looks up, frowning, then chomps the last bit of pie off the fork and slouches as only a flower can. “I’h hhine,” he mutters around it.

Frisk sets the fork down on the plate and watches him eat. “Do you _want_ to go on a date, still? It’s okay if you don’t. We can cancel.”

He jerks his head up and swallows. “What? I didn’t say anything about canceling! We’re going on a date! A fancy one!” He jabs an accusatory leaf at them. “And you won’t let me be bored for a second! You promised!”

They smile and nod decisively. “I did.” They push themselves upright and pick up the dirty dishes. “I’ll get the reservations.”

“Out of curiosity, are you planning on dinner at MTT Resort?”

Their smile widens.

“Hah! Good luck on that! Literally _everything_ at that restaurant needs reserving months in advance,” Flowey replies. “If you can set up a date there _tonight_ , that’ll REALLY impress me.”

Tonight? They consider that. It’s half past noon now, and if dinner’s at seven or eight... Hopefully that should be enough time. “Okay.”

He pauses. “Wait, seriously?”

They nod. “Meet you out here in six hours?”

He stares. “ _Seriously_?”

They grin, wave, and turn to jog back into the house. They look back over their shoulder when they reach the front door and see Flowey still gawking; when they catch his eye, he ducks back underground and is gone. They laugh and head inside. It’ll be tough, but the prospect of impressing Asriel fills them with determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "( _Now that’s a rock fact!_ Chara says, then cackles for some reason)" Chara is quoting Greg from the cartoon _Over the Garden Wall_.


	30. What An Event!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -??????- continues.

A date with Flowey. A date with _Asriel_! It’s really going to happen. Frisk dances down the hall into their temporary room, then flops back-first onto the bed. They spend a minute wiggling back and forth just to get the happy energy out, then roll onto their stomach with a big smile on their face and hug their pillow. Dating Papyrus made them closer friends--sort of--so dating Asriel has _got_ to work the same way.

_Hey Chara! What kind of stuff would make Asriel happy on our date?_

Tone neutral, they reply, _I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been on a date with Ree._

_Hmmm... It’s got to be fun, at least. And fancy. Hrm. What’s fancy_ and _fun?_

_Shouldn’t you worry about the reservations first?_

_Oh, you’re right! I better take care of that._

They pull out their phone from their pocket and text Alphys: ‘hi alph cn i get ur help w/ sumtin’

A moment later, Alphys replies: ‘omg frisk!!! ur ok now?? i was so worried about u!! what’s up is something wrong??’

‘no im ok ty,’ they text back, followed by, ‘oh r u ok 2? tings go ok w/ teh dt monsters?’

‘yeah, thank god. it was stressful at 1st but undynes been helping  & ppl have been rlly accepting, its such a relief you dont even know’

‘thats good im glad 4 u’

‘asgore was rlly shocked tho so i might not have a job soon lol but thats probably for the best,’ Alphys adds.

‘oh no.........’

‘no rlly its probably for the best. i can focus on pulling myself together, and neway its not for certain yet,’ she reassures them. Then she adds, ‘btw what did you need help with?’

‘oh yah! is mtt fixed yet??’

‘yes! i mean it was just a matter of recharging his batteries lol. why?’

‘do u have his # i gota ask him a favor’

‘uhhh ok??? brb’

It’s a somewhat lukewarm response, but Frisk is fairly confident that Alphys will come through for them. They’re right, too: a private message follows a couple minutes later with Mettaton’s contact information, including his social media handles. Time being a constraint, they try calling him first. No one picks up, so they shoot a text stating ‘plz pick up, its the human’ (they’re not sure he knows their name and reminding him that they are, in fact, a human can only help them, they figure), then wait ten seconds and call again.

Jackpot. On the third ring, the line connects to Mettaton EX’s dulcet tones: “Darling, hel _lo_! My, it’s been ages! Do forgive me for not picking up before--I didn’t realize it was you. But however did you get this number?”

“Alphys.”

“Ahh, yes. That would do it. In fact, I’m just--now--receiving a text from her--hm. Telling me to expect your call because you need a favor. Tsk, tsk. She needs to work on her speed. Well, no matter. What can I do for you, darling?”

“Can you give me a full reservation at your restaurant? For two? For tonight?”

“Oh my. For _tonight_? You certainly like to cut things close, don’t you?” A light sawing noise hums in the background of the line. Frisk wonders if he’s filing his gloved, metallic fingers again. “That could be rather difficult. I of course have several performances lined up there tonight, and I’m expecting a full house... Would you be willing to settle for, say, a half-reservation, three weeks from tonight?”

“No.”

“My, my, my. I was afraid of that. If it were just _you_ , gorgeous, that would be different, but... well, I’ll see what I can finagle. Who’s the second reservation for, by the way?”

“My date.”

A high-pitched shriek pierces through the receiver, and Frisk jumps and nearly sends their phone flying across the room. Even held at arm’s length, they can hear Mettaton’s excitement.

“Did I hear you correctly, darling?! Did you say your _date_?! As in your beau? Your paramour? Your partner in love?!”

Frisk cautiously brings the phone closer to answer, “Yes?”

It’s a good thing they used caution, because they have to shoot the phone away the next nanosecond when another shriek, even more delighted than the last, cuts the air like a chainsaw.

“Whyever didn’t you say so in the _first_ place?! What an event! The sole human of the Underground, on a romantic adventure at MTT Resort, paradise of passion! How could I _not_ host this?! Don’t worry, darling, leave it all to me! I’ll ensure you and your beloved have _everything_ you need for tonight!”

Frisk brightens. “Really?” they call from half an arm-length away. “Is seven okay?”

“But of course, darling!! And seven o’clock is _perfect_! Don’t you two dare be a second late! Ooh, now _I_ need to get ready! Do call me back once you’re on your way, darling! Ta-ta for now~!”

_Click_. It’s a good thing that everything is set up, because Frisk doesn’t have a chance to say a word before Mettaton hangs up on them. They smile, half pleased, half bemused. At least the reservations are out of the way? They text a thank-you to Alphys for her help and pocket their phone.

_That went way better than I thought it would!_ Frisk thinks cheerfully as they hop off the bed. _I thought I could talk Mettaton into it, but I barely had to! He was really eager!_

_Yeah..._

_Is something wrong, Chara?_

_No,_ they say quickly. A beat later, and they add, _He just seemed a little_ too _eager, is all._

_That’s a good thing, isn’t it?_

_Mm. Maybe. Anyway, if you want to set up a “fancy” date, you’ll need nice clothes. Why don’t you ask Toriel about that? She can give you dating tips, too._

_Good idea! Thanks, Chara!_

_Yeah... You’re welcome._

\---

Toriel boggles at Frisk even after they finish explaining what they want. It’s a little embarrassing.

“Please let me be sure I understand you correctly, my child,” she says at length. “You wish for advice on dress and conduct during a ‘fancy date’... because... you are going on one with the little flower??”

They nod.

“Well... all right,” she says, still looking flummoxed. “I have never heard of this MTT Resort, however. Is it truly so difficult to make reservations there?”

“Already covered,” Frisk reassures her.

“Oh! My, you _are_ ‘on top of things’!”

The two share a laugh. When it dies down, her gaze has grown misty and distant.

“I remember my first date... Those were better times. Yes, I do believe I have some formal dress that you may borrow.” Her smile fades. “But, um... how do you intend to have your, erm, date accompany you?”

They tilt their head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“He is a flower, is he not? Then does that not mean he lacks legs?”

Frisk opens their mouth, shuts it.

Toriel waits a moment for them; then, lips teasing upwards, she suggests, “Perhaps he would enjoy a lovely vase for you to carry him in?”

They light up and nod vigorously.

“Well! Then let us choose clothes for yourself, and we shall find a vase to match. Would you prefer a dress, a suit, or a robe, Frisk?”

They shrug. “Anything’s fine.”

She smiles fondly. “Well, I am glad you are not picky. There was a child I knew who could not tolerate dresses for the longest time...”

Chara’s silence takes on a blood-red shade. Frisk tilts their head and transmits curiosity at them, but Chara makes no remark.

“Then, let us see what we have and what will fit you,” Toriel continues, “and you can pick what you like.”

They nod. She takes their hand and leads them to, of all places, the room that’s been under renovation since before they came. To their surprise, the inside is full of a dusty hodgepodge of items and furniture. They wonder if the New Home version of this room is the same way; as they’d recovered over the past two weeks, they’d told Toriel an abridged version of their journey through the Underground, including through New Home, but little details like this had never come up. They take a look around in curiosity, then stop before a large dresser.

“I haven’t had use for these in a long time,” Toriel explains as she opens it up and pulls out a small dress suit, sleek and black. “I suppose I should do something with the things in this room, but... well, I can never find the time to come up with any ideas, and it seems a waste to throw them away. How do you like this one, Frisk?”

They look it over, then shrug and shake their head. They and Toriel pass an hour like that, going through the contents of the dresser, all of them children’s clothing in various sizes, shapes, and styles. Only a few of the outfits are their size or close to it. Eventually, after trying several on, they decide on a dark blue dress with a chiffon skirt and a glittery smattering of translucent white beads reminiscent of stars. It reminds them of the wishing room, and they like that. It comes with a pink woolen jacket with a poofy flower on the chest, matching the dress’s belt, and Toriel finds matching stocking tights and shoes after some searching in nearby cupboards, while Frisk finds a cache of costume jewelry and picks out a headband of white rhinestones.

While they work, they chat animatedly--or rather, Toriel does, and Frisk eagerly listens--about the importance of communication in romance, in how one needs to both listen and be listened to. She recommends, after dinner, possibly taking a ferry ride all along the Underground, or possibly going on a long walk through Waterfall, but anything that would allow them privacy to talk about themselves and each other is a good idea. Her last piece of advice, as Frisk twirls in front of the mirror to see how their chosen outfit looks on them once all assembled, is that while it’s all well and good to give someone a chance, they should listen to their feelings if they feel uncomfortable for whatever reason.

“Sometimes,” she concludes, “you can be friends with a person, but not anything more, and there is nothing wrong with that. If there is anything at all that feels off, then perhaps that is what you are best off being.”

Frisk tucks their bangs back as they regard their reflection thoughtfully. Then they tilt their up at her, lips pursed.

“Oh, I do not mean to say that I think ill of that little flower. Quite the opposite. Had it not been for his timely warning, I might not have found you in time,” Toriel replies, smiling. “But... well...” She glances to one side. “Even people who seem wonderful at first can have... unpleasant layers.” Her smile tenses briefly, then gentles when she returns her gaze to them. “It does no harm to be cautious, for your own sake.”

_It’s okay, Mom; he only killed us about half a dozen times across three timelines. I’m sure he won’t go in for a seventh on the very first date,_ Chara snarks.

Frisk nearly snorts, then masks it as a cough into one hand.

“Are you all right, my child?”

Smiling, they wave it off, and the two of them return to the room so Frisk can change back into their regular clothes. Afterwards, she directs them to take a bath, and a nice hot soak sounds like a great idea, so they do.

As they wash their hair, Chara murmurs, _Sometimes, Frisk, I wonder about you._

Frisk pauses. _Huh? What do you mean?_

_I was joking before, but it’s true that Ree’s killed you several times. Your last experience with him before today was him absorbing your SOUL. But now you seem genuinely excited to go on a date with him. Does it really not bother you?_

_Oh. That does sound weird when you put it like that,_ Frisk admits. They continue lathering in the shampoo. _Maybe I’m just used to people trying to hurt or kill me before we become friends. I didn’t even think about it before you brought it up. I mean, just look at us. We had a lot of bad times the last couple timelines, but we’re really close now, right?_

Chara doesn’t answer.

_...Right?_

They make a small, discomfited noise.

Frisk lowers their hands and rinses them off in the bathwater. _There_ is _something wrong, isn’t there? And now you’re trying to dance around it because you don’t want to upset me._

_Haha... Ouch. You hit the bull’s-eye. Sorry. I’m not... really good at friendship._

_It’s okay. What’s wrong?_

_I’m... still sorting out my feelings about it. I’ll tell you when I’m ready, okay?_

_Okay._

_Can I ask you one thing, though?_

_What is it?_

Chara’s silent for a moment; then they blurt out, _When we were in the secret lab, and I was trying to get Ree to let go of your SOUL. Why wouldn’t you ask him to release you so you could go back to your body?_

_Oh. Are... you upset that I took his side over yours?_

_It’s not quite that, just... I’ve been... worried._

_That I don’t like you anymore?_

_You_ are _sharp._

_Hehe._ Frisk leans back and lets themselves sink up to their chin in the warm water. _I still like you, Chara. I think of you as my best friend._

Astonished, they utter, _Really?_

_Yeah. But... you remember what I told you about my mom and dad? About how they used to argue a lot?_

_Yeah..._

_Sometimes, when they fought, they’d put me in the middle of their arguments and try to make me take a side. But I didn’t want to, because I loved them both, so I’d get scared and freeze up. I couldn’t even talk. When you and Asriel were fighting, I sort of... went back to that mental place. I’m sorry._

It’s been a long time since Chara has gone out of their way to hide their feelings from Frisk, and the lack of an inner color stands out like a missing front tooth. It’s how Frisk knows Chara’s calm is fake when they finally remark, _It’s just like you to apologize for being hurt to the person who hurt you._

_Chara? Are you okay?_

_Hahaha... It’s even more like you to worry about the feelings of the one who hurt you over your own._

_Chara, it’s okay. I mean... it’s not_ okay _, but I’m not upset. Everything worked out all right in the end, didn’t it?_

_But how do you know I won’t do the same thing again? How do you know I won’t just keep hurting you over and over?_

_You promised, didn’t you? It won’t happen again. And you kept that promise. You broke your own knife to keep your promise. That’s why I trust you, Chara. Even now, you’re thinking about me and my happiness. That means the world to me._

_...I’m sorry I made you feel that way again. Back at the lab, I mean._

_Thank you._

_Uh... Do you want any advice about Asriel? If you have any questions, I’ll answer them._

Frisk thinks about this as they duck their head underwater and blow bubbles. They scrub their fingers through their hair to wash out the shampoo, then surface and wipe the water from their face. _No, that’s okay,_ they decide. _I’ll ask him myself tonight. Thanks, though. For trusting me with_ your _best friend._

_...I was serious when I said you’d be good for each other. You’re a lot alike. Or you’re alike to who he was when he was alive, anyway._

_Aw, thanks, Chara._

They pause, then murmur, _You’re one of my best friends too, Frisk. Let me know if you need any help. I’ll do whatever I can._

Frisk brightens, and they reach for the soap and scrub-brush. _Thanks! You’re really a much better friend than you think._

Chara’s pleased embarrassment flushes carnation pink. _Still not as good a friend as you._

It’s one of the most beautiful colors Frisk has ever seen.

\---

Once they’re out of the bath, they change into fresh spare clothes. Frisk can’t recall having ever changed clothes so many times in one day. They choose to take that as a good sign: already they’re having new and unprecedented experiences, so the rest of the day will be full of them, they’re sure. Then they’ll be able to share them with Flowey and make sure he’s not bored for one second, just like they promised.

They check the clock as they towel off their hair. Another couple of hours until they’re supposed to meet up with Asriel out front... They wonder if they should call him early so he can get a bath of his own (do flowers even take baths? They wonder how he cleans himself) and pick which vase he wants to be carried in. If he wants to be carried. If he doesn’t, they’re not sure how they’ll proceed, but they’re pretty sure they can talk him into it. If the vase alone isn’t fancy enough, they saw ribbons and strings of silver beads that they can strew onto it to add more elegance.

They share this idea with Toriel when she comes in ten minutes later to comb their hair. She nods her approval, or at least they think she does since they don’t have the best view of her.

“I can certainly arrange that,” she says, gently teasing the comb through a tangle of brown hair. “I believe I have a sash for his stem as well, and I have found quality soil for the inside of the vase. Water alone would probably be... erm... somewhat awkward. As well as heavy.”

“Thanks.”

“It is no trouble at all, my child.”

After she’s finished combing their hair (to Chara’s wistful regret), they head outside and call for Flowey. He pops up out of the ground on the first syllable of their second call.

“You’re early,” he remarks, eyeing them.

“You need a bath too,” they reply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. They kneel down, pick up a certain object and place it in front of him, and add, “Here. I got you a flower pot.”

He stares down at it, then up at them. “What.”

“How else can I bring you inside?”

“Listen, pal, if you think I’m going to just climb into that piece of junk and let you cart me around--” He pauses as their face falls. “--then you’re right, so let’s just get this over with,” he grumbles, uprooting himself.

_God. You practically have him wrapped around your little finger,_ Chara remarks, sounding amused.

Frisk grins as they pick up the Floweypot and carry it inside. Toriel and Sans are chatting next to the stairs, and they look over as the two enter.

“Oh! Greetings!” Toriel turns and bows to Flowey, whose stem goes rigid. “It is good to see you again. I am Toriel.”

“H-howdy!” he chirps, eyes darting to Sans, who hangs back with his hands in his pockets, and back again. “I’m Flowey. Flowey the Flower. Nice to meetcha!”

Something in Toriel’s eyes flicker, but she continues to smile. “I did not have the chance to say so before--thank you for warning me about Frisk’s injuries. I hope that you two have a wonderful evening tonight.” She holds out both hands. “I’ve picked out some lovely vases for your formal wear, Flowey; would you like to come with me to look them over?”

“Uhhh...” He turns to Frisk, who nods; then he eyes Sans, who watches him with his usual poker grin. He forces another smile at Toriel. “Sure?”

He doesn’t look any more comfortable when Frisk hands him over to Toriel, and when she walks off with his pot in one arm, he watches her with an expression Frisk can’t quite read. They take a step forward to follow, but Sans casually moves into their way.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, hands in his pockets, head turned towards Toriel and Flowey. “That’s some date you got lined up.”

They grin, but the expression drains away when they feel Chara’s chalk-orange wariness. “Is something wrong?”

He chuckles and scratches himself, but it takes him a moment before he actually speaks. “Listen. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

They tilt their head inquisitively.

“Now, some of your decisions are, uh, questionable, but you’re a smart kid. So I’m sure you know that it’s dangerous to like Flowey.”

They nod. They’ve known that for a long time.

“So even though you know it might not be good judgment, you trust him.”

It’s not a question, but then, it doesn’t need to be. Both of them already know the answer. They hold his gaze solemnly and wait for him to continue.

He doesn’t disappoint: “Why? Is it just on your pal’s recommendation, or...?”

_I’d like to know the answer, too,_ Chara says. _We never did return to the topic earlier._

To both them and Sans, Frisk asks, “Do I need a reason?”

Sans laughs, to their mild surprise. “Well, maybe not. I’m not out to criticize you here, so you know,” he clarifies. “I get it. You meet someone who could hurt you. Someone who _has_ hurt you. But you like them, so you end up lowering your guard for them, even though you _know_ it’s a bad idea.”

Frisk has to admit, that defines pretty much their entire early relationship with Flowey. They frown as they scratch their head, then nod once.

Sans nods back. “Do you get _why_ I get it?”

That was an angle they hadn’t considered. When they think about it, it does seem odd; Sans is friendly, but... emotionally reserved. They furrow their eyebrows at him.

“Because that’s how I feel about you.”

They stare.

“You could betray me in the worst way possible,” he continues. “You’d get away with it, too, because I wouldn’t even remember. Knowing that, I still decided to trust you. I wasn’t exactly spoiled for choice, granted. But I still figured, maybe if I did, it’d give you an extra reason to not want to start over again. Heh... Pretty cold, huh?”

They frown a little and nod. They won’t deny, that hurts their feelings a little, but... it makes sense. They can’t blame Sans for it.

“I’m sorry,” they say.

“Huh? For what?”

“For hurting you.”

His eyes soften, and he chuckles ruefully. “I appreciate that. Sorry, though; I wasn’t trying to guilt you into an apology.”

They shake their head, shrug a little, and smile.

“You don’t mind? Well... That’s like you, anyway.”

_No kidding,_ Chara murmurs.

He leans on a wall and continues, “The reason I bring this up is... it’s fine if you trust Flowey. You know yourself and what you kids have going on best. But don’t forget what you risk by making that decision. All right?”

They nod decisively.

He breathes out a faint sigh of relief. “Good. I don’t wanna worry about you more than I have to.” He winks. “Well, enough wet-blanketing. How about we chill in the living room ‘til Tori finishes up with the sprout?”

They grin, nod again, and pad up the hallway. Sans strolls after them.


	31. Love Cannot Be Forced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -Flowey- continues.

“How many vases do you _have_?” Flowey complains. “Did you _always_ have this many?”

“Er... yes?” Toriel replies, mildly confused. “How else would one spread flowers throughout the house?” She gestures at her desk, which is cleared but for half a dozen vases and Flowey in his pot. “These would all complement Frisk’s dress nicely, I believe, so please feel free to choose whichever suits your fancy.”

Flowey frowns as he looks them over. He wonders if they’d appeal more if he still had Frisk’s SOUL inside him. Nonetheless, they _are_ all fancy, and that’s just what he asked for. At least he’s got nothing to complain about there. He could swear he doesn’t remember all these vases, though. Maybe the old hag picked up more after she came back here.

“That one,” he decides, nodding at a dark blue, ribbed jar with a sweeping wing-like design. It looks light and easy to carry.

“That is a good choice,” Toriel says, then starts to move the other jars over to her dresser. “I have brought a bucket of soapy water--would you prefer to wash yourself, or would you like assistance?”

“You don’t need to baby me,” Flowey says flatly, smile forced. “I’m not a kid.”

“...Yes, of course. I apologize.”

He watches her as she returns, sets the bucket up next to him, and takes a trowel from her desk. They stare at each other for a few seconds until he cottons on that she’s waiting for him to unroot himself and get in the bucket.

“What’re you standing there gawking for? Turn around!” he demands.

“Oh!” she utters, holding a hand to her mouth. She turns her back. “I am sorry. My, but you are a modest flower.”

“That’s me, all right,” Flowey mutters as he carefully transfers himself to the water bucket. “Modest and polite in every way.”

The water’s warm and the soap smells nice. This is so weird, a flower taking a bath, especially with his mom right in the room. He lets himself settle into it anyway. Frisk wanted him to, and how’re they supposed to treat him to a nice date if he doesn’t play along?

After a moment, Toriel clears her throat. “Flowey? May I ask how you feel towards Frisk?”

Oh boy. Here comes the third degree. Flowey swishes his leaves through the water. “I said yes when they asked me on a date. What’s that tell you?”

“Merely that you do not completely dislike them.”

“Isn’t that enough?”

She chuckles ruefully. “You must be young,” she replies. “If I may say so, those are the words of someone who lacks experience.”

Flowey’s mouth slants downwards. It’s tempting to lay into her for that one--him? Inexperienced? She has _no_ idea what she’s talking about--but for one, it’s technically true that he has no experience in the dating sphere, and for two, he doesn’t want to ruin Frisk’s efforts before they even start. He’ll lose out too that way.

“So, what, then?” he says instead. “I don’t get what your point is.”

“Frisk is very fond of you. I cannot speak for them what the nature of their feelings for you are, but that much is clear. If you accepted their request for a date simply out of a sense of obligation, or to sate a sense of curiosity...” She lowers her head. “...well. You are of course not required to return their feelings. Love cannot be forced, after all. I would simply ask that you let them down gently at the end of the night.”

Flowey doesn’t answer.

“And if you _do_ end up hurting them, or if you are toying with them...” She turns enough to let him see her smile. He sinks further down into the bucket, and the reason why has nothing to do with modesty. “I will be most displeased with you. Please do remember that.”

Flowey narrows his eyes at her over the edge of the bucket. “I hear you loud and clear.”

“Good.” Her smile gentles, and she turns away from him again. “I am glad that we understand one another. You seem like a nice flower, so I do not think I have anything to fear, but... well, call it a silly old woman’s worrying.”

A nice flower. Boy howdy, is she ever off. But the rest of what she said was... pretty on the money, so he suspects that she’s just assuming the best of him. Idiot.

“By the way... this may sound strange, but... this... _is_ the first time we have met, is it not?”

Flowey pauses. “...What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“Oh... Never mind.” She shakes her head. “Ever since I saw you, I have had this sense of déjà vu... My mind must be playing tricks on me. It happens every so often.”

Flowey chooses to let this pass. It’s not like he could tell her the truth, anyway. ‘That’s ‘cuz I tried to kill Frisk and you stopped me by setting me on fire! You just don’t remember because time’s been reset twice since then!’ Yeah, that’d go over like a cascade of bricks.

“You sure worry about Frisk a lot,” he says instead. “You’ve had a lot of kids come and go, haven’t you?”

Her shoulders stiffen. “...Yes.”

“Let me ask _you_ something, then.” Flowey narrows his eyes at her back. “Frisk, and all those other human kids... Are they just replacements for your _actual_ kids? You messed up the first time, so you’ll try again with someone new? What d’you hope to accomplish this way?”

She doesn’t reply at first. Flowey knows perfectly well what he asked is incredibly cruel, but he literally doesn’t care.

“I just do not wish to see any more children die,” she murmurs. “Or anyone at all.”

Flowey snorts. “Yeah, right,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?” Toriel asks, frosty.

Crap. Well, if she hear him, she heard him. He may as well go all in. He wanted to, anyway.

“Get real, Your Majesty,” Flowey sneers. “If you were REALLY invested in not letting anyone die, then why’d you let all those humans leave the Ruins all by themselves? You KNEW they’d eventually meet Asgore. You KNEW he’d kill them for their SOULs. But you didn’t do a thing. The best you ever did was attack them YOURSELF to try to keep them here under your thumb, even though you could’ve killed them if you’d been just a little less careful.” He lets out a malicious cackle. “Sure must feel great, holing yourself where no one can find you and looking down your nose at everyone else!”

“I... That is not...”

He smirks at her back. “You asked me if you could trust Frisk with me.” He lets his face morph into one of his creepy smiles, despite the fact that she can’t see it, because why not? “ _I_ think the real question is, can anyone trust Frisk with YOU? Your great parenting skills already got eight kids killed! What’s one more, huh, Mom?”

She whirls around then, tears and rage in her eyes. He doubts she’s angry enough to attack him, though, and naturally, he’s right: she averts her gaze, then folds her arms over her chest and bows her head.

“You are right,” she murmurs. “Perhaps I could have done something more had I stayed. My disgust with Asgore indirectly led to the deaths of six innocent children. I was wrong to attack Frisk as well, whatever my intentions had been. And had I been more attentive... perhaps my own children would not have...”

She trails off. Flowey doesn’t feel bad, or anything at all. Still, he does realize that he should probably reel it back in before he causes a problem for Frisk.

“Why’d you leave him, anyway?” he wonders, voicing a question he’s been meaning to ask for ages but somehow never got around to. “You were so in love with him, it embarrassed everyone around you. Now you hate his guts.” He frowns as she gives him an odd look. The question, now voiced, leads to some thoughts he hadn’t quite wanted to entertain. But now here they are, and they’re too big to ignore. He glances away. “...Is it really that easy to come to hate someone you cared about so much?”

She stares for a few seconds longer. Then she crosses over to her bed and sits on it. “It was not easy, I assure you.”

Flowey frowns at her; then he sinks until his petaled face floats on the surface. It’s harder than it seems, probably because there’s no surface tension. “Then why? Isn’t it better to stick with someone you love no matter what?”

“Mmm... There is merit in what you say,” she admits. “But I could not condone what he intended to do. Many arguments followed after that... Many bitter and vile things were said. I left in disgust, vowing never to return. One of our own was a human, and they were a wonderful child, so how could he turn around and vow the destruction of _all_ humans?” She folds her paws and swallows hard. “What happened to our son was... horrific. Not a day passes where I do not wish he were still with us.”

“...”

“But that is no reason to condemn an entire race to death,” Toriel murmurs, sorrow replaced by steel. “I could not make Asgore see reason. Therefore, I left. I would have no part of his plans. If our children were still alive... I am certain they would say the same thing. I cannot imagine that either of them would wish for the destruction of humanity.”

Flowey drifts listlessly in the bucket. _You really are an idiot, you old hag._

“And... I suppose that is it,” she continues, tone now brisk. “People, both humans and monsters, are living creatures, and to live is to change. Unfortunately, sometimes people change for the worse... even ones you love. When that happens, it is up to oneself to decide whether or not they can tolerate it, and if so, how much.”

_Sometimes people change for the worse._

_When that happens, it is up to oneself to decide whether or not they can tolerate it._

“Wow,” Flowey utters, stem now rigid. “Golly. Golly gee gosh! It sure is a good thing that’s got nothing to do with me!!”

And then he plunges himself into the soapy water so he won’t have to answer any nosy, ignorant questions. 

Once he’s calm enough to reasonably pretend he was just washing up, he surfaces. The old hag’s laid a long hand towel next to the bucket, and he slithers out to wrap himself up in it and dry off. Toriel is on the chair now, back still to him. He’s seized with the urge to just--hit her with all the bullets he’s got, assail her, barrage her, _deluge_ her, until there’s nothing left of her but a miserable pile of dust.

Uggghhhh, but that would _definitely_ ruin his upcoming date with Frisk. Stupid Frisk and their stupid flirting and stupid-- _ugh_! He savagely squashes the urge by drying himself with excess enthusiasm and “accidentally” knocking the bucket over.

Toriel jerks around when she hears the clatter. “Oh!!” she utters, getting to her feet. “Are you all right, Flowey?”

“Uh?” he utters, because that definitely wasn’t where he thought she’d take that.

She’s already picking up the bucket and eyeballing the mess with thinned lips. “I apologize. I will be right back with a mop. I have already filled the vase you chose, so please move yourself into it when you are ready.”

“Okay?”

He doesn’t stop her when she leaves. He does, however, take the opportunity to move himself into said vase. It’s actually really good quality soil? Nice and soft and crumbly. Real easy to spread his roots through, and silky smooth. There he waits, and he doesn’t have to wait long.

When she comes back in and begins to mop up the mess, for a moment, he just watches her. Once it passes, he clears his throat to get her attention.

“Um. Sorry about the bucket. I didn’t mean to,” he lies.

“It is all right. Accidents happen,” she replies as she works.

“And, uh. Sorry about earlier,” he adds, less because he’s actually sorry and more to nip any future trouble in the bud. Pun not intended. It’s _not_. “I, uh, said too much.”

At first, she doesn’t reply. Then she breathes out a faint sigh. “Thank you. I appreciate your apology.”

That sure sounds like she didn’t actually accept it to him, but that’s good enough for Flowey. More conveniently, the urge to destroy her has passed--so thoroughly that he’s not quite sure why he ever wanted to in the first place.

Whatever. Who can explain whims, anyway?

When she’s done mopping, Toriel takes Flowey by the vase and carries him out. Frisk hurries on over and the trashbag moseys up from behind, but Toriel just tells Frisk to get changed while she accessorizes him. Sans doesn’t offer to do a thing, and nobody asks anything of him, and that’s just fine by Flowey. The less time he spends around Smiley Trashbag, the better.

His mom at least has good taste? She drapes a chiffon scarf at the mouth of the pot, hiding the actual soil, and decorates the vase with a string of silver beads to hold the scarf in place. Then she dabs some kind of plant oil on his leaves and petals, making them all look sleek and shiny and himself smell vaguely like citrus. He has to admit, as he looks himself over in the mirror, he looks good. He’s pretty pleased with it.

And so: “Thanks,” he (grudgingly) tells Toriel.

She pats his head. “You are welcome, my child.”

Flowey very deliberately says nothing as she leaves the room.

\---

“Sans, I am going to help Frisk get prepared for tonight,” Toriel tells her friend on her way to Frisk’s room. “Could you keep an eye on Flowey for me, please?”

“Oh boy,” says Sans.

\---

Flowey peers at Sans. Sans peers right back. If a cobra and a mongoose could be monstropomorphized, the tableau would look astonishingly similar.

“What are YOU doing here?” Flowey demands, opening with a biting remark.

“Babysitting, apparently,” Sans replies, leaning on the only exit.

“I can take care of myself,” he shoots back curtly. “And I’m not going to run off right before my date. What are you, stupid AND ugly?”

“Hey, now, that’s just hurtful,” Sans retorts, looking completely unhurt. His eyelights flick to one side. “Anyway, ugly might go straight to the _bone_ , but everyone knows it’s the SOUL’s beauty that really counts.” A beat. He locks eyes with him. “Whoops. I guess YOU wouldn’t know, huh?”

For a being with allegedly no emotions, Flowey does a _great_ rage-face. Sans basks in it.

Too bad it doesn’t last. The little flower shows an unimpressed smile. “Whatever,” he declares. “I’m Frisk’s guest right now, so if you do _anything_ to me, you’ll get it.”

“Hmmm... I dunno. Frisk’s pretty forgiving. But even if they weren’t...” Sans’s eyes go black. “Might be worth it to get rid of the _thorn_ in my side.”

Flowey rears back, expression rife with panic. “Y-you wouldn’t dare!!”

Sans’s eyes turn back on. “Just kidding.”

He scowls and slumps. “Ugh. I _hate_ you. I hate you SO much.”

“That’s fine by me. I’m not in this to win any popularity contests.” He pauses. “By the way... you sure do like to make lots of different kinds of faces.”

“And you sure to like to keep that dumb smile plastered on,” Flowey shoots back. “Kinda makes you wonder which of us is the _real_ soulless abomination, huh?”

“It’s you. No question.”

Flowey scowls harder than ever. Then he straightens, face going blank. “So. You got something you want to say, Smiley Trashbag? You’ve got the floor right now.”

Sans taps a foot on the hardwood. “I sure do.” When Flowey completely fails to react, he shrugs. “Hmm... In all seriousness, though... I just have one question.” His smile tightens. “How many times did you reset?”

A slide show of expressions flick past Flowey’s face: first a narrow-eyed smirk, then a black-eyed smile, then a toothy grin, then a jagged grin with lolling tongue, then a voiceless cackle. Finally, he ticks back to his original blank face.

“It wouldn’t do you any good to know,” the flower concludes.

Sans considers this. “Yeah, guess you’re right. If Frisk and Chara get their way, this’ll be the last one, anyhow.”

Flowey’s eyes narrow slightly, the only reaction he betrays, but doesn’t respond. Sans doesn’t offer a new quip or observation, either. For several minutes, the two of them just watch each other, occasionally glancing away before looking back, like a pair of cats deciding whether or not they want to rumble.

Eventually, Flowey clears his throat. “So. I have a question for you too.”

“Shoot.”

He smiles humorlessly, probably considering it. “What’s your relationship with Chara?”

Sans raises a brow ridge. “Relationship? I don’t follow.”

“Don’t get coy on me, you worthless sack of bones.”

_Wow,_ he marvels, taken aback despite himself. The words brim with venom, but Flowey delivers them without any expression, any intonation, anything at all. It’s actually super-creepy. Aloud, he says, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea. We don’t have any kind of ‘relationship’ to speak of. We don’t hate each other? That’s about it.”

“...You aren’t l y i n g to me, are you?”

“Why would I lie about this?” Sans pauses. “That means ‘no,’ by the way.”

Flowey stares at him for a moment longer. Then, mouth pinched, he glances to one side. “So... you’re not friends or anything?”

It’s adorable of him to ask, and Sans squashes the urge to laugh, partly because it’d be mean, partly because it’d be unfair to Chara. He knows they wanted to be friends with him. He’s still not sure if he considers _them_ one or not, but if nothing else, he likes them more than he used to--that is to say, at all.

“If we are, we’re not better friends than the two of you are,” he replies.

Flowey blinks once. Then he settles back, a satisfied air about him. Looks like that was the right thing to say.

The door opens before either of them can say anything further. Sans moves away from the doorway to let Toriel enter.

“I apologize for the wait. Frisk is ready,” she announces, and the satisfaction that radiates from _her_ has a very similar air. Like mother, like son, he guesses.

The three of them head out into the hallway, Sans first, then Toriel carrying Flowey’s vase. Since Sans gets a look at Firsk first, he’s able to turn his attention to Flowey to see how the flower reacts. He’s not disappointed.

Flowey gawks at Frisk in their starry blue dress, pink jacket, black leggings, and rhinestone headband like a frame of spinning roses did a slow pan from their feet up to rest on their smiling face. Frisk twirls on one foot, hands on their skirt, to show off. Their boots aren’t too fancy, but they’ve got a spare pair of shiny black shoes nearby, so Sans suspects they intend to change into those later. They look like they’re having a grand old time.

“Oh,” Flowey utters.

Sans leans in. “Cute, aren’t they?” he whispers, grin so wide his eyes crinkle.

He rears away from him. “Shut up!!” He coughs into one leaf, then looks back at Frisk. “You look.... nice,” he hazards.

Frisk beams.

Toriel hides a chuckle behind one hand, then offers the vase to them. They accept it, grinning, and hug it to their chest.

“Have a good time, you two,” she says. “Do you need us to escort you to the Riverperson, or...?”

Frisk shakes their head. “A date’s for two people,” they insist. “We’ll be fine on our own.”

Toriel smiles fondly. “Very well. We shall see you later tonight, then. Please take care.”

Frisk nods firmly and waves to her and Sans. Then they pick up their spare shoes and head down the stairs.

Once they’re gone, Sans looks up at Toriel. “So,” he says. “It’s gonna be pretty quiet here tonight. Wanna come by my place, watch some TV?”

She blinks at him. “Hm? But I...” She averts her eyes, then nods once and manages a smile. “Actually, that sounds lovely. If I am to make a sound decision, I should re-enter the rest of the Underground again.” She purses her lips. “I am concerned, though... If another human should fall...”

“You check once a day, right?”

“Yes...”

“Well, you checked for today, and we’ll be back by tomorrow. So there’s nothing to worry about, right?”

She smiles ruefully. “I suppose you are right. It will also be good to take my mind off of things before I do my metalworking research. Will Papyrus be joining us?”

“Yep.”

“Then I am sure it will be a splendid evening.” Toriel’s smile warms. “Thank you, Sans. If you had not invited me, I imagine I would have stayed alone in my room and fretted for the rest of the night.”

He shrugs. “Hey, take it from me: there’s no point in worrying about the things you can’t change.” He jerks his chin toward the front door. “C’mon. I know a shortcut.”

Then he turns and saunters out. Bemused, Toriel follows.

\---

Snow crunches under Frisk’s boots, their dress shoes dangling from a cord around their neck. The woolen blouse-jacket keeps them warm, and they hope they don’t work up too much of a sweat walking all the way to MTT Resort. Snowdin should be fine, since the cold will keep perspiration at bay, but it’ll get worse once they reach Hotland. In their arms, Flowey remains silent, staring at everything but them.

As they make their way to Snowdin proper and thus the ferry, they come across a surprising sight: Snowy the Snowdrake with his father and... mother? s?? They stop to gawk at the happy(???) family, but a quick explanation from Chara brings them up to speed. They hadn’t personally encountered any of the DT monsters until now; actually meeting one took them aback.

From there, they exchange hellos and how are yous with the family; Snowy’s mother in particular seems fond of them, which is only a little awkward to Frisk. They let Chara pet her fronds and bump their forehead on hers, though, a silent show of affection that feels uncomfortably private. Then they nod goodbye to the family, who it turns out genuinely is happy with this state of affairs, and move on.

“What a bunch of circus freaks,” Flowey complains once they’re out of earshot.

“Don’t say that,” Frisk scolds them.

“Well, they are. That loser’s mom is never going to be back to normal. What’s he so happy to have a _thing_ like her back for?”

Somehow, Frisk gets the feeling that Flowey isn’t really talking about Snowy and his family. “Did you have a nice talk with Toriel?” they wonder.

He doesn’t respond.

They hug him a little higher, a little closer. “Your vase looks really nice,” they add. “It looks great on you. And your petals are so shiny!”

He flutters them a little, still not looking at his date. “You think so?”

“Mhm!”

“...hmph.”

There’s still a ways to trek after that. It isn’t far from the woods to Snowdin Town, but it feels like it when you’ve got a dress you’re trying to not get dirty and a vase you’re carrying. They know the other snowdrakes and ice caps don’t mean any harm, but it does get a little vexing when they won’t leave them alone. They make the mistake of complaining about this aloud to Flowey, and for the first time he looks up at them--with a ghoulish grin.

“Want me to kill them for you?” he asks, leering.

They frown at him. “No.”

His toothy smile ticks over to a more normal one as their eyes meet. He averts his eyes, then shakes his leaves. “Don’t get so serious on me, Frisk. I was just kidding,” he claims, turning away. “Of course you wouldn’t want me to kill anyone.”

“Mm.”

They walk on together wordlessly, passing by puzzle after puzzle that have long since been solved. Seeing them makes Frisk feel strange, although they can’t put their finger on how or why.

“Really, I don’t know why I said that,” Flowey murmurs after a moment, now subdued. “Of course you wouldn’t want me to kill anyone.”

“It’s okay,” they reassure him.

“You really are forgiving, Frisk. I’m always saying stupid stuff.”

Chara’s silence is pointed. Frisk replies, “You are, but it’s okay.”

Flowey snorts, but the quiet that follows feels more companionable this time.

When they enter town, their step slows down a bit so they can exchange greetings with the townspeople. As they pass Grillby’s together, Flowey speaks up again, subdued:

“Why do you put up with me, anyway?”

Frisk considers this, and how many times they’ve had to answer this question in one form or another. If he just can’t understand, or if he won’t believe them... “It’s nice to have someone who’ll give you another chance when you mess up, right?”

“I didn’t _mess up_ , Frisk. Everything I did, I did knowing and not caring that it would hurt someone. Am I really the kind of person you want to pour so much effort on?”

They smile at him ruefully. “It’s better than being alone, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but...” He trails off. Then he turns his head to squint up at them. “ _Oh_. I just understood something about you.”

“Hm?”

“You’re used to being alone, but that doesn’t stop you from being really lonely, does it? You’re the type who _hates_ being alone.”

Frisk stops dead in the snow, pulse racing. He hit the bull’s-eye. Chara knows it too, they can tell.

“So, as long as it means you won’t be alone, you’ll put up with almost anything, huh?”

They don’t respond. From Chara, wariness smokes green and grey.

“...You better be be careful, Frisk. There’s people out there who’d take advantage of that if they knew that about you,” he says quietly. “I should know.”

_I’m one of them._ The final words hang, unspoken, like a rusty hook on a starless night.

Frisk attempts a smile. They don’t think it’s coming out right. “So... what’re you saying?”

He stares at them for a long moment. Then he sighs a little and averts his eyes. “Nothing, really.” He bows his head. “Just... even without a SOUL, I understand how you feel.”

The smoke of Chara’s wariness gradually clears to reveal a deep blue pool of melancholy. Frisk doesn’t need to ask the reason for it. They boost the vase a little and lean in to give Flowey a peck on the head. He flinches away in surprise, but doesn’t protest.

“That’s why, then,” they murmur. “We’re alike, aren’t we? All three of us.”

Flowey can’t seem to come up with a reply for that. Chara says nothing, either.

After they take the ferry to Hotland, phone Mettaton to let them know they and their date have almost arrived, and begin the last leg of their walk, the conversation turns to the plans for the night, or at least potential courses it can take. Flowey doesn’t want a specific schedule, preferring to be surprised. While that puts more pressure on Frisk, it’s also a challenge to get closer to Flowey on both of their own terms, and that’s honestly exciting. They get off the elevator, turn a corner, and walk up the steps past the Nice Cream Guy and the two lovey guards up to MTT Resort.

If nothing else, it looks to be a good night for surprises, because what Frisk and Flowey see there knocks them both for a loop.

_I told you,_ Chara says. _Didn’t I tell you? I KNEW he was too into it._

“Darling, you’re just in time!” Mettaton trills, beaming at the two, clad in a sequined magenta suit and surrounded by cameramonsters. He grabs Frisk by the wrist and all but drags them inside. “Now let’s get a move on! You look good, gorgeous, but you can _always_ look better, and we go live in five!”

Frisk staggers, clinging to Flowey’s vase for dear life, as they haplessly chase Mettaton and the brigade of support monsters inside. Spotlights illuminate the MTT Resort sign as they pass, under which hangs a glittering sign:

‘TONIGHT ONLY! MTT SPECIAL EVENT! LIVE LOVE: A HUMAN AFFAIR!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...like a frame of spinning roses did a slow pan from their feet up to rest on their smiling face." This is a reference to the spinning rose frames from the anime _Revolutionary Girl Utena_.
> 
> "A date's for two people." Frisk is quoting Wakaba Shinohara from _Revolutionary Girl Utena_.
> 
> "Live Love" is a play on _Love Live!_ , an anime/video game I've never seen or played but sure sounds like something Mettaton would enjoy.


	32. This Time For Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -Flowey- continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta reader @inverts for the "love at first sight" gag. It was too perfect not to use. 8) This chapter goes out to them!

Frisk isn’t sure how they make it through the flurry of shoe-changing and make-up touch-ups and vase buffs and Mettaton hemming and humming and examining every bit of their outfit before giving it the all green and all but shoving them and Flowey out into the restaurant, but they do. The place is packed--every seat is taken--and they try not to let themself look nervous. One of the stage crew lets them and Flowey examine themselves in a hand-mirror, while others do last-minute checks on the cameras set up around their table. The other restaurant-going monsters chat animatedly amongst each other, or maybe that’s just a background noise machine, because Frisk could swear they feel every eye in the room on them.

“We’re making excellent time, darling! One more minute until showtime!” Mettaton declares as he checks himself in a hand-mirror and finds himself perfect. He swaps it for a microphone courtesy of one of the stage crew. “But, teensy little detail, I can’t help but notice--where exactly is your date?”

Frisk holds up the vase, bringing Flowey and Mettaton to eye level. Flowey forces a smile. “Howdy!”

Mettaton stares for two seconds. Then he breaks into a sunny smile and laughs. “How apropos, darling! As they say, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet! Speaking of names, what’s yours, gorgeous?”

He shoves the microphone into Flowey’s face, entirely unnecessarily. Flowey doesn’t immediately blow it up, and he thinks he deserves an award for that. “Flowey,” he chirps. “Flowey the Flower!”

“Of course it is!” Mettaton chirps back. “Now, remember that prompt, because that’s how you’re going to introduce yourself live! Well then, we’ve promised our audience a night of unparalleled romance, so that’s just what you’re going to give them!”

“I didn’t promise anyone anything,” Flowey hisses to Frisk. Frisk shushes him, but he insists, “No, seriously!! I said I wanted a fancy date! I didn’t say a thing about an audience! Why do I have to do this?!”

Frisk considers this. In retrospect, they should have realized that there would be a price for getting prime reservations at a restaurant that takes reservations for everything from the food to the cutlery to the seats, and there’s nothing they can do about that without disappointing a lot of people. But they know Flowey and what he likes, so they murmur, “It’ll be interesting.”

He frowns. Then he mutters, “Okay, _fine_.”

The next ten seconds are a flurry, and at the end of it Frisk and Flowey are seated opposite one another at the center-most table, illuminated by a soft spotlight. Frisk hopes the drifting rose petals won’t get in their food. Flowey’s giving the petals a funny look, and they wonder if it bothers him to see dismembered flowers. They don’t have time to ask, though, because one of the camera crew says, “Okay, we’re live in three--two--”

They switch to finger-signs, and at the zero count, Mettaton all but sparkles. “Good _evening_ , beauties and gentlebeauties, and _welcome_ to the place where your romantic dreams are sure to come true!! Tonight, we have an _extra_ special loving couple, featuring someone the whole kingdom’s been buzzing about: the human!!”

He gives a moment to let the restaurant at large murmur appreciatively about this, despite the fact that everyone’s been here the whole time and knows exactly what’s going on. Frisk turns their head, and spots Bratty and Catty sitting a few tables away. They both wave, Bratty with a long grin, Catty while ogling Mettaton’s butt, and give Frisk a thumb’s up. It makes them feel a little less nervous to see it.

“You’ve seen them with drama! You’ve seen them with bloodshed!! Now, see them with ROMANCE!!” Mettaton trills, just before sweeping a bendy arm back at their table. “I, your gorgeous host Mettaton, bring you: LIVE LOVE! Where the Underground’s _faaaavorite_ human spends a whirlwind night of passion with the monster of their dreams at last~!”

The crowd whistles and cheers their appreciation as if on cue. Maybe it _was_ cued. Maybe the crowd just loves anything Mettaton says that much. It, Frisk thinks, could go either way. As promised, Mettaton has Flowey introduce himself on camera with the same line he’d used earlier. Flowey seems a little bit more annoyed about it, though maybe he’s annoyed with everything in general. God, they hope this date isn’t already falling apart.

“So, a talking flower is _quite_ unusual--I don’t believe I’ve ever seen another monster like you, darling!” Mettaton continues, aggressively chipper. “Where are you from, Flowey dear?”

Flowey and Frisk shoot each other a glance at the same time. Though they’ve had their misunderstandings and disagreements in the past, this time, with that one look, they communicate clearly to one another a pure and mutual sentiment: _lie your petals off_.

“Golly! That’s hard to say!” he chirps. “I just woke up one day in a field of flowers, but I was the only one who could talk. I don’t even know who my mom or dad are!” He affects a sad little frown. “Maybe I don’t have any. After all, I _am_ a flower.”

Mettaton, in turn, affects a tragic little gasp. The restaurant breathes out an _awwww_ in near-unison. “Oh, how awful! How heartrending! You must have been _soooo_ lonely!”

“Wh-whatever. It wasn’t a big deal,” Flowey scoffs, only the slightest tremor in his voice hinting otherwise. “I’m a big flower, not some loser little weakling. I can deal just fine on my own.”

Chara’s silence inside Frisk head is pronounced, and Frisk glances at Mettaton. Mettaton keeps smiling, but they have a hunch that’s not the answer he wanted.

“Ooh, you’re such a toughie, darling,” he coos. “So cool and rugged! No wonder our darling human fell for you~! Isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

He turns the microphone to them expectantly, and although Frisk had a feeling this might happen, they’re still a little startled. Feeling their face heat up, unable to suppress a smile, they nod once.

“Ooh, they’re too enamored for words~! Someone call Snowdin for an ice transfusion, because I’m sizzling up!!” Mettaton gasps, arms wrapping around himself multiple times in an extravagant self-hug. When Flowey and Frisk exchange another wordless glance, he adds, “Not to mention all those passionate gazes you two share!! My, there’s so many sparks flying, I might just catch on fire!”

“I can arrange that,” Flowey mutters.

Frisk hides a laugh-snort and a smile behind one hand. If Mettaton heard it, he graciously pretends he didn’t as he unhugs himself.

“So how did the two of you meet? We all know our dear human gets around, but surely a _cool, suave_ loner of a flower like you tends to himself?” he asks sweetly.

“Uh... Well, of course!” Flowey declares, eyes darting over to Frisk. They offer him a discreet shrug. “When I heard the rumors of a human, I had to take a look for myself.” He smirks. “Normally they don’t last long, after all.”

“It was LOVE at first sight,” Frisk offers to cut off any negativity.

“ _Frisk_ ,” Flowey hisses while Chara chokes and howls with laughter inside their head.

Mettaton gasps, his one visible pupil turning heart-shaped, as he clasps a hand to his cheek. Frisk wonders if he has some kind of programming protocol or something to allow him to do that. “Love at first sight!! Then you knew immediately it was meant to be?!”

“It hit me like a ton of bullets,” Frisk confirms gravely. Chara whoops while Flowey makes a snort that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

“Shot through the heart! And he’s to blame, hmm?”

“Mhm.” They grin at Flowey, then add, “But a friend of both of ours helped bring us together, too. I guess he chaperoned us for a bit?”

Mettaton leans forward eagerly. “Ooh, and whom might _that_ be?”

“Papyrus, from Snowdin Town! We dated before, actually.”

Flowey frowns but doesn’t remark.

“Oh, _my_! So your ex-boyfriend introduced you to your current boyfriend?!”

“Mhm! Papyrus is very great. He cares about his friends’s happiness more than anything.”  
“Mmm, sounds like quite the catch!” Mettaton leans the microphone towards Flowey, one leg kicked out behind him. “On that note, I caught _you_ frowning there just a bit, darling. Don’t you deny it! You aren’t worried about a torrid love triangle, are you? If Papyrus is so great, he might just come back to sweep our dear human off their feet again~.”

Flowey gives him, and then the cameras, an appraising look. Though Frisk can’t know for sure, they have a feeling they know what he’s thinking: Papyrus is a big Metta-fan, so he’s probably watching this show right now. It’s why they went out of their way to mention him.

“No,” he says at length. “I know Papyrus. He’s not a threat to me.”

“My, how confident! Is this the unshakeable bonds of friendship, or...?” Mettaton trails off with an indulgent smirk, then twirls a finger around the microphone cord. “Then let’s talk about _you_ , sweetheart. Your date says it was love at first sight, but how long did it take for you to fall pistol over roots, as it were?”

“Me? Pssht, don’t be stupid. They had to beg me for a date,” Flowey replies, waving a leaf expansively. “Of course, they’re kind of cute, I guess, so I didn’t mind saying yes--”

“He couldn’t stop following me around,” Frisk cuts in, grinning.

“ _Frisk, don’t tell them that!!_ ” Flowey hisses, flapping his petals.

“How _adorable_!!” Mettaton coos, grinning ear to ear. “It seems our _big, bad_ flower has a soft spot after all! Next you’ll be telling me you have pet names for each other!”

Flowey shoots him a filthy glare, then bares his teeth in a malicious grin at Frisk. “Oh, sure. Not for me, but Frisk loves that smoopy stuff. Like... _smoochums_. And _cuddlewumpus_.”

Frisk beams back at him. “I love you too, honeysuckle.”

If Chara had a body of their own, they’d be in tears from laughter. Flowey and Mettaton both scream, meanwhile, albeit for extremely different reasons.

“You were supposed to get embarrassed!!!” Flowey accuses Frisk.

Their grin is unflappable. “Sorry. I didn’t.”

Flowey groans. It’s a truly piteous sound, and also actually very cute.

“My, my, my, _my_ ,” Mettaton trills, gleaming with a grin of his own. “I see you’ve got his stem wrapped around your little finger, darling!”

“No they don’t! Nobody controls me! I’m bad!” Flowey protests.

“It’s true. He’s very bad,” Frisk agrees solemnly, while completely unable to hide a smile.

“Bad at names, perhaps,” Mettaton murmurs _sotto voce_ , eyebrows arched, one hand over his mouth. Louder, he continues, “Ooh, is that _so_? It’s just like you to tame a bad boy, gorgeous! Flowey never stood a chance, did he?”

“Not even a little,” Frisk agrees, grinning back. At Chara’s prompting, they add, “Sometimes I think he must be a cactus, because truly Flowey is the most tsundere of plants.”

Flowey grumps.

“Truer words, darling! Ah, but we approach the dinner segment~!” Mettaton poses dramatically, slamming a leg onto the table in the process. “It’s time for the lights to dim! For drinks to glitter, and steaks to boldly show off my beautiful face! And after dinner... who knows?! _Anything_ could happen on Live Love!!”

He sweeps to one side and around Frisk’s chair as the restaurant audience cheers and claps, then bows graciously. As he does, he leans in towards them.

“On that note, darling, you’d better live up to your nickname and smooch that flower before the end of the night,” Mettaton whispers to Frisk, one hand hiding his mouth from the camera. “The audience is counting on you for that romantic action, and _I’m_ counting on you for those romantic ratings~”

Frisk tilts their head his way, expression serious. Then, slowly, they give him a firm and resolute thumbs-up. Mettaton laughs like an heiress into the back of his hand, then slides backwards until he’s out of their personal space. Once he’s out of view of the camera, a stage hand gives him a violin, and he sweeps into a lovely performance. It takes Frisk a moment to realize that the violin has no strings, that the bow he’s sliding over its empty face is actually a shaved stick, and that the music is playing from a speaker somewhere around his midsection.

It’s just as well that neither they nor Chara are musically literate. If either were, they’d come to the conclusion that if that violin _were_ strung and the bow were an _actual_ bow, Mettaton would, based on his arm and finger movements, be playing an unparalleled rendition of the acclaimed “Cats In Mortal Agony” Symphony, third bowel movement.

“How do you feel about the date so far?” Frisk asks, leaning their elbows on the table and their chin on their hands.

Flowey scowls at them. “Are you really asking me that? _Seriously_?”

“Uh huh.”

He scowls harder. Then he glances away. “...I’m not bored.”

“So you like it,” Frisk concludes.

Flowey glares back at them. Then he throws his leaves up in a show of exasperation. “I guess!!”

_He must be having fun. He’s been playing along this whole time,_ Chara says wryly. _He just doesn’t want to act as though he’s playing along, probably because he has an image he wants to maintain._

Truly _the most tsundere of plants,_ Frisk remarks, swinging their feet.

_Truly._

“So what do you wanna eat?” Frisk adds, tilting their head at their date.

“Hmmm...” Flowey tilts his head in thought. “I think... I’ll have whatever you’re having.” His mouth parts in a sly smile. “So you better make it good.”

_No pressure or anything,_ Chara quips.

“Okay.”

“You sure are confident.”

Frisk just smiles back. When the waiter (a twitchy Burgerpants, as it turns out) arrives, they put in an order for a Starfait and a Steak In The Shape Of Mettaton’s Face, one each. It’s easy to pick; those two things are literally all that’s on the menu. Mettaton must have had everything already planned out. Maybe he thought steak would be classier date food than glamburgers? Or maybe he wanted to make sure his face was in view even when he’d bowed out to let the focus be on them and their date. Their places have already been set--plates, glasses, cutlery, even a pair of swirly straws--so once the Starfait arrives first, it’s just a matter of Frisk asking for it to be set in the center of the table and stabbed with the two straws.

“Wait, what’re you doing?” Flowey asks at this point.

Frisk pulls their knees up underneath them and leans forward. Before they put their lips on their straw, they tilt to one side to smile over at him.

“You said you’ll have whatever I’m having,” they point out. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

He stares at them for several seconds, to the point where they wonder if actually they fumbled this one badly. Then he glances to one side, then leans forward, surprisingly meek.

_He’s going to try to drink up the entire Starfait before you can get a sip,_ Chara predicts.

This is stunningly likely, in Frisk’s opinion, so they don’t waste any time taking a sip of their own. Chara’s prediction is dead-on: they get about a mouthful before Flowey sucks up the rest. He leans back with an incredibly smug look and a blob of cream on his face.

“You really are bad,” Frisk remarks, more amused than anything else.

“Told you,” Flowey taunts.

Frisk purses their lips; then they push the Starfait glass to one side and lean across the table. They have to put a knee up to make it, since Flowey doesn’t reciprocate, which is probably inappropriate for a fancy date, but that’s fine; they make the distance on their own, and take the opportunity to lick the cream off the side of his mouth.

“But you’re also sweet,” they add, smiling guilelessly, as the music hits a crescendo and the audience goes wild.

Flowey chokes and stammers and even blushes, and they count that as proof of a successful surprise. Unable to hold back a _teehee-we-almost-smooched_ sort of grin, they tuck their skirt underneath them and sit back down as primly as they can.

_You really_ do _have him wrapped around your finger,_ Chara remarks, impressed and a little something else. _How did you get so good at flirting, anyway? You barely seem interested in any actual romance._

_Practice,_ Frisk replies, swinging their feet. _It’s fun and funny, and it helped me make friends with other kids sometimes, and the adults would always laugh when I did it. Plus, I just like doing it. It makes me happy and everyone else happy._ They look around at the restaurant clientele to prove their point: Bratty and Catty are still shrieking as they hold each other’s hands and jump up and down in their seats.

_...Out of curiosity. And I’m just asking because I’m curious... Do you like Asriel? As in,_ like _-like him?_

Frisk blinks and looks back at Flowey. He’s half-hiding his face, and it’s hard to tell, but he doesn’t seem entirely displeased? At least, he’s frowning, but it’s a scribbly kind of frown, and when he notices them looking, he loudly declares, “J-just so you know, I did that on purpose! To get you to do that!”

“So you wanted me to kiss you?”

“Yes! WAIT, NO--”

The rest of his protests drown in the roar from the audience, and though they know they won’t be heard, Frisk laughs in delight. Do they like-like him?

_I think I do,_ they reply.

_...Good. I’m glad to hear it._

There’s something about the way Chara says that, about the way they feel when they say it, like light through a window shifting through dust particles and crawling across the floor, that makes something click for Frisk.

_Do you like him too? Is it okay for me to be on a date with him?_

_Wh-- Frisk, we... We were best friends, but that’s all,_ Chara protests, more flustered than Frisk has ever heard them. _There’s no way he thinks of me like that, and anyway, he’s changed so much, I don’t know if..._ They trail off.

They think back to what Chara had said about talking to them once they’d sorted out their feelings on a certain thing, and reply, _You don’t have to hide the truth from me, you know._

Their companion remains silent. Across the table from them, Flowey has finally collected himself to realize that they aren’t listening to his excuses anymore.

“What has _you_ so space-y all of a sudden?” he asks, then pauses as he realizes the answer to his own question. “Are you--is it _them_?”

Frisk waits for Chara to protest; when they say nothing, Frisk nods.

“O-oh. Um...” Flowey glances from side to side at their audience. Then, slowly, he asks, “This is... this is okay, right? Between you and me...?”

_It’s fine,_ Chara replies before Frisk has the chance to ask. _And anyway, it’s too late to ask that now. You’re already in the middle of your date. I’m just... feeling a little left out, I guess. It’s_ fine _, Frisk,_ they add, perhaps sensing their distress. _I’m having fun watching you two. Just don’t tease him too much, okay? Ree’s a dork, so he’ll take anything you say seriously._

“They said it’s okay,” Frisk reassures him. They pause, then smile a little. “Actually, they think you and I should get married.”

“WHAT? I’M NOT--WE’RE NOT--”

_WHAT? FRISK, I NEVER--_

Frisk giggles and adds, “Just kidding.”

Flowey throws his leaves up, but they’re pretty sure they catch part of a laugh. “They put you up to that, didn’t they?! Ugh, I can’t _believe_ it! You’re just as bad as they are!”

Frisk’s giggling turns into full-blown laughter. It isn’t discouraged in the slightest when Chara chimes in, _I can’t_ believe _you got me. And didn’t I_ just _ask you not to tease him too much? I’m an even worse influence on you than I thought._

_I like to think of it like I learned from the best,_ Frisk replies cheerfully.

_What, the best at pranking?_

_Yup!_

_...Heehee. Well, fine. Suit yourself, then._

The waiter (still twitchy Burgerpants) returns with their steak then, which, Chara pauses to inform them, is not actually made of beef but rather of some kind of solid mushroom paste, they’re pretty sure. It _does_ look tasty, either way, and Frisk picks up their fork and knife to begin to cut. The knife glides through, much to their surprise; Chara must be right about what the steak’s made of.

“You still hungry?” they ask Flowey conversationally as they work.

“Feed me, Frisk,” Flowey demands.

They laugh affectionately, spear a cube of steak, and hold it out to him. Little fangs peek out of his mouth when he bites it off, and his expression is thoughtful as he chews and eventually swallows.

“Hmm. It’s pretty well-seasoned, actually,” he remarks.

They giggle. _Do you want a turn, Chara?_

_What,_ me _? This is_ your _date, Frisk._

_But you said you’re feeling left out._

_Well... if you_ insist _..._

“More!” Flowey demands.

The human shuts their eyes and bows their head. Then they lean an elbow on the table and their chin on their hand.

“As you wish, my Prince,” Chara replies with a sardonic smile, twirling their fork in their other hand.

He startles. “Char--”

They wink and hold a finger up to their lips. Flowey’s jaw clamps shut, but he’s instantly more attentive, the look on his face more open, more longing. Frisk immediately understands why Chara must have felt left out; now they feel a little left out, too.

“Just for a little,” Chara says, then silently promises, _So don’t worry; I won’t be long._ Frisk realizes with a jolt of guilt that they hadn’t hid their feelings from their companion well enough. Chara stabs another cube and holds it out. “Say ‘ahh,’” they tell Flowey sweetly.

“You never get tired of teasing me, do you?” he replies, eyes darting away like little fish.

They laugh, warm and affectionate. “Never ever.”

“Golly,” he mutters, but his mouth curves up at the corners anyway.

He turns and opens his mouth for the faux meat tidbit with an audible _ahhh_. Chara waits until his mouth has nearly closed around it--then twirls the fork around and seizes the bite for themself.

“Wh--hey!” Flowey protests.

They cover their mouth with one hand as they chew and swallow. “You’re right.” They grin wolfishly. “It’s delicious.”

“Oh my god! Why didn’t I see that coming!” he protests with more performative bluster than anything else. “You’re such a jerk!”

Chara laughs again at that, and inside, Frisk smiles at their good mood.

_Didn’t you just tell me a minute ago not to tease him too much?_ they say.

_Pssht. I can tease Ree as much as I want. Best friend’s privilege,_ Chara retorts.

_I’m not gonna lose, then! Let me say something!_

Control shifts, and Frisk’s grin is no less mischievous than Chara’s was. “If you didn’t like that,” they tell him, “I could always feed you mouth-to-mouth.”

Literally the entire restaurant screams in varying degrees of delight. Mettaton’s carries over the crowd like an excited steamboat whistle, while Chara inside their head is somewhere between tickled and mortified. Flowey, meanwhile, is too busy sputtering to say much of anything. In that moment, they offer him another steak cube, and when he glares at them with open suspicion, they let their smile warm him. Realization dawns on his face, and he glances away; then he tentatively moves to eat it. They don’t snatch it away at the last second.

Maybe it’s because the yelling has just started to die down, but they hear him mumble something that he probably didn’t mean for them to hear:

“You really are different from them.”

Their smile falters, and within them, Chara goes quiet.

_Do you want to say something?_ Frisk asks.

_No... No, I’m okay._ They scoff and add, _I’d be way too embarrassed to show my face after you spouted a line like that._

This cheers Frisk up, and they take the next bit of steak for themselves, then offer the next to their date. The rest of dinner proceeds like that, with Frisk alternating bites, until near the end when dinner is almost all gone. Then:

“Hey,” Flowey says. “I want to try feeding you. Can I?”

They light up and nod. Flowey shifts to one side and lets a vine snake out from his vase across the table, picking up the fork from his side along the way. It takes a little while, but they don’t mind, and when he has it held up with one of the final steak cubes, they lean forward. At the last second, though, he swatches the fork away, bites the meat(?) off for himself, and swallows it whole.

“Hahahaha!! _Sucker_!” he crows. “I _knew_ you’d fall for it, you dope! I can’t believe what an IDIOT you are! You’re so gullible!! Ahahahahaha!!”

Frisk waits until he’s laughed himself out. Then, once he’s calmed down, he stares at them for a couple of seconds; then he spears the last bit of steak and offers it to them anew.

“Okay, this time for real,” he says.

And, despite the fact that he’d literally just finished mocking and deriding them for trusting him, they lean forward, mouth open. This time, it is indeed for real, and that last savory bite tastes so much better for it.

“So... is it good?” he asks, watching them closely.

They nod, smiling as they chew and swallow.

“Good,” he says, leaning back on his crooked stem. He pauses, then adds with the air of a world-class philanthropist making a generous and gracious concession, “We can do something you wanna do now.”

In their head, Chara snorts as if holding back a laugh. Despite this, their humor is streaked through with rainy blue. Frisk decides to leave it be for now, and they slip out of their chair to pick up Flowey and his vase.

“Let’s dance,” they declare.

As if on cue, the lights dim, the music changes to a sultry slow dance, and a spotlight illuminates the two. When they turn around, Mettaton gives them an enormous wink from the other side of the room, somehow, despite his hair covering one eye.

“You come up with the worst ideas,” Flowey snarks. “Let’s do it.”

Frisk, who has never danced with anyone in their life, beams and clutches Flowey close. Before they can start to spin in circles as they’ve seen on TV, though, the restaurant doors open audibly, and someone larges rushes in, silencing the restaurant. Frisk looks up again, and shock tingles through their body when the see the newcomer’s furry yet ashen face as he heaves the bellowing pant of someone who’s sprinted a fair distance very quickly. The two lock eyes.

_Asgore,_ they think, heart hammering.

“This is bad,” Flowey whispers, echoing Chara in their head.

Mettaton, as quick on his feet as ever, sweeps over to the King of All Monsters with a sunny smile. “Why hel- _lo_ , Your Majesty, what a delight to see you! If you’d called ahead of time, I would have gladly reserved a table for you--”

“Please let me past. I must see the human,” Asgore says, more plead than command.

“Human? What human?” Mettaton echoes with a tone so disingenuous that Frisk is amazed his nose doesn’t grow three inches on the spot.

Asgore makes a huffing sound and gives him a woeful look that gives Frisk the impression that he’s silently asking Mettaton not to force him to call him a liar on live TV.

Clearly Mettaton gets the message, because he shoots a look over his shoulder and laughs into the back of one hand. “Oh, _that_ human! Oh, my, I’m afraid there’s been a big misunderstanding, King Asgore!” He shoos Frisk with his other hand, hidden behind his back. Frisk has no idea where he means for them to go, but they duck down behind the table. “You see, that’s just a stunt double that we prepared--”

As Mettaton launches into a lie so skillfully that they wonder if he rehearsed it beforehand just in case this very thing happened, Frisk begins to crawl towards the back of the restaurant, Flowey and his vase tucked under one arm. Above them, monsters whisper encouragements and subtly move their chairs out in their wake to block anyone--that is, Asgore--who might try to follow. Frisk is genuinely touched, given how hype many of them were and maybe still are for the total destruction of humanity. They pass Bratty and Catty, and the two give them a wink and a grin as they both lean back, chairs locking with the patrons behind them.

_Where are you going? There’s only one exit, and it’s blocked,_ Chara says.

_Flowey can burrow. Maybe he can make us an exit,_ Frisk replies. _And Mettaton’s buying us as much time as he can, so we have to do something._

_No, that’s a bad idea. He wouldn’t be able to make a hole big enough for you in time for all of us to get away._ Chara thinks for a couple seconds; then: _Get under a table. The tablecloth will hide us. Asgore’s too big to hide the sound of his footfalls, so when he comes for you, we’ll move from table to table until we can double around and reach the exit._

Frisk definitely doesn’t have any better ideas, so they shoot a glance over their shoulder--they can’t see Asgore from here, so he probably can’t see them either--and they crawl under the veil of a tablecloth. Multiple legs lean out from underneath, giving them space. They hope that barricade isn’t going to bite them in the behind.

“So what’s the plan?” Flowey hisses. Frisk tells him, and he nods. “Chara’s right, like usual. That’s probably our best bet.”

“Sorry our date bombed,” they murmur.

He smiles. “Are you kidding? Dinner and a stealth mission? I’m having more fun than ever. Now listen up, because I’ve got something to add to that...”

They move again a moment later, and so does Asgore. They hear him calling, if not their name, then their species, loudly but not impolitely requesting that they come out into the open. Sounds like MTT’s lie fell through. Frisk shuffles with Flowey under one arm from table to table. It feels simultaneously like it takes forever and no time at all as they circle around Asgore to the front of the restaurant, and before long, they’re only a single table away. This is the longest distance, though, and the one that would leave them to most in the open. They peek out from under the tablecloth, and turn their head to try to spot Asgore...

“There you are!” he declares, and their breath stops.

Several tables away, Asgore straightens, holding a Floweyless vase up from the floor where they’d left it peeking from the table where they’d discussed the escape plan. They start breathing again. Flowey’s supplemental idea had worked great; Asgore looks startled and befuddled and taken aback and stricken, all at once. They wonder if he recognizes the vase.

“Go, go, go,” Flowey hisses into their ear, roots shifting where they coil around their forearm.

No need to be told twice. They throw the tablecloth back and navigate around the other patrons, crouching down to avoid being seen. Mettaton, who stands next to the hallway to the exit, throws them a wink and a half-smile as they pass him by, then lifts his head to his gloved nails so he can studiously pretend to have not noticed them. Their hand is on the door when:

“Wait! Please, wait! Chara!!” Asgore calls.

Frisk freezes in mid-step. They hear Flowey suck in a breath, and both of them turn around the stare back at the King, eyes desperate, from where he stands across the restaurant, trapped by his own people.

“Chara! It is you, is it not?” he calls. “Please! I must speak with you!”

“Yeah, right,” Flowey hisses. “Hurry up and ditch him!”

Frisk wobbles for an instant. Chara offers no opinion, only a dark blue silence. In lieu of any wishes from the person being addressed, they turn, push the door open, and rush first out of MTT Resort and then out of Hotland.


	33. I Wanted To See You Smile Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -Flowey- continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And _this_ chapter goes out to @feralphoenix, whom I understand enjoys Dying and Being Dead.

Waterfall is damp, but it’s also pleasantly cool--a nice balance between Snowdin and Hotland. The constant dripping of water has created lots of little holes and crevasses in the rock, so sound carries well. Even here, in the flat of earth with a view of New Home, Frisk, Chara, and Flowey can hear the distant sound of a music box.

Without a word, the three of them listen together, Frisk with their legs folded beneath them to avoid getting their borrowed dress dirty, Flowey perched in their lap and secured by their crisscrossed fingers, Chara silent but present within their mind. Leaving Hotland had been easy; there’s an elevator extremely close to MTT Resort, which connects another elevator very close to Alphys’s lab, which is very close to the Riverperson’s ferry. From there, it was simple to catch a boat ride, and from there, they could calm down and turn their escape into a stroll, during which they and Flowey laughed about the trouble they’d evaded. Chara hadn’t joined in. Now, pulse relaxed, skin cooled, they sit and listen to an oddly nostalgic tune.

“I do feel a little bad for him, though,” they remark, reviving the conversation. “I wonder how he realized about Chara?”

“Who knows, who cares?” Flowey replies, waving a leaf. “Take it from me, Frisk: the less people know about you, the better. Really, after all that crap down in Alphys’s lab, you should just reset and be done with it. Too many people know the truth now.”

“Not happening,” Frisk replies.

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

They smile. “Too bad we didn’t get to dance. I bet that would’ve been nice.”

Flowey snorts. “You would’ve looked like a weirdo anyway, spinning around with a vase. And anyway, I was getting sick of the crowd. This is much better.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Sh-shut up.”

They laugh a little and stroke the back of their fingers down his stem. He grumbles but lets them, and they turn their thoughts inwards to check in on their companion.

_Are you okay, Chara? You’ve been really quiet._

_Yeah..._

It’s a vague sort of ‘yeah,’ the kind Frisk themself might use as a non-answer that seems enough like a real answer to deter any further questions. _you need some alone time?_ they ask. _I have Flowey here, so I don’t mind._

_No, it’s..._ Chara hesitates. _I’m just rattled._

No need to ask why. _Is there anything I can do?_

_Mm... What about you? You seem pretty calm about all this._

They shrug. _I would’ve told Toriel about us ages ago if you hadn’t asked me not to. Same goes for Asgore. You didn’t say anything, but I know you sometimes get quiet when you’re upset, so I figured I’d better leave just in case._

_...Thanks._ They pause. _In retrospect, it was a bad idea to appear on live TV. Asgore was probably watching. He showed up just a few minutes after I did._

_Oh. OH. That does make sense._

_Haha... I messed everything up again, didn’t I?_

_Chara... is that what you’re upset about?_

_Mmn._

That sounds like a “yes.” Frisk decides to give them some space, though they send their companion affection before they do. Chara twines around the wisps of warm orange-yellow like a cat, and Frisk returns their attention to Flowey, who’s now staring at them.

“Are you talking to Chara?” he asks.

“Good guess,” they say wryly.

“You talk more these days, so it’s easier to notice when you space out,” he replies.

“Oh. You think so?”

“Yeah? Obviously? When you first came down here, you barely talked at all.” He pauses, then considers this. “Actually... I don’t think that changed much until this timeline.”

“I’m happier now.”

Flowey droops. “Is... Chara happier, too?”

“Sometimes.”

_I’m always unhappy,_ Chara cuts in. _I’m just less unhappy at some points than others._

_Is that a joke?_

_Sometimes._

Although they probably should be alarmed, Frisk snorts out a laugh instead. Flowey frowns and whaps their arm with his face.

“Hey, tell me what they said!” he demands.

_You don’t have to if you don’t want to,_ says Chara.

Frisk’s lips purse, and they curl their fingers into their palms. They know Chara’s trying to be supportive, but... “I don’t...” They take a deep breath and straighten their shoulders. “I hate being put in the middle,” they state, addressing both their companions. “If you want to talk, do it face-to-face.”

And then their body slumps over, then jolts upright, eyes blinking rapidly. “Frisk, what the hell!” Chara utters.

“Wh--oh. Uh. Hi, Chara,” Flowey says lamely.

Chara stares at him; then they puff out a small sigh and slouch. “Hi.”

Silence.

Chara glances away and brushes their hair back from their face. “It’s really not like it used to be, huh.”

Flowey bows his head. “Chara?”

“Yeah?”

“I...” He looks up. “I’m really sorry about all the mean stuff I said to you down in the lab. I didn’t mean it.” He averts his eyes. “I was just... You’re surrounded by all these people who’re friendly with you, and you seem like you want them to be your friends too, and I’m just over here, all alone. I hated seeing you be happy without me.” He pauses. “Wait, that sounds bad. Can I do that over?”

“There are no do-overs with us. We’re the ones who remember, after all.” Chara brushes his petals. “But it’s okay. I’m not mad. I understand what you mean.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah. I was the one who wouldn’t come when you called. Of course you thought I didn’t care. I would’ve been hurt too, if our situations had been reversed.”

“Why... why didn’t you? Come, I mean.”

Their lips thin and they lower their eyes. “...I was ashamed. And guilty. The more I thought about what I did, the harder it was to face you.”

“What you did?” he echoes, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you talking about last timeline?”

“Yes. And also... the plan.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “So... you really do regret it?”

Chara considers this. “Not everything,” they admit. “I don’t regret dying to try to save the monsters, even if I regret messing it up. And I can’t bring myself to regret trying to kill the humans from my village. But...” Their eyes cloud, and they cup their hands around Flowey. “I _do_ regret making you suffer, more than anything.”

“Chara...”

They smile a thin, tired smile. “It doesn’t really matter what I do or don’t regret, though. I should never have asked you to kill for me--to try to make you be something you weren’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” They swallow hard. “You were right to walk away, Asriel.”

“B-but I got us both killed!”

“No, _I_ got us killed. I’m the one who talked you into that plan, even though I knew you didn’t like it. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, it never would have happened.”

“But I could’ve put my foot down! I didn’t like the plan, but I went along with it anyway because... because I didn’t want to let you down. I didn’t want you to stop liking me. If I’d made you stop, or if I’d told Mom or Dad before you k-killed yourself...”

Flowey falls silent. So does Chara. Slowly, the child lifts the flower and holds him to their chest. Flowey holds his breath for a second, then shuts his eyes and relaxes into their embrace.

“It’s not all bad, Ree,” they murmur. “At least this way, we got to meet Frisk.”

He snorts, and there’s a beat before he replies, “Yeah, that’s true.”

Inside them, Frisk glows. Chara smiles, and for a moment, they’re almost content. Lucky for them they’re so experienced at ruining a good thing; it makes what they have to ask easier.

“Hey,” they murmur. “Can I ask you something that might be incredibly cruel?”

“Go for it,” he replies, sounding amused.

“Are you ‘Flowey’? Or are you ‘Asriel’?”

He stops breathing for a moment. “...Gosh, you weren’t kidding.”

“...Should I take it back?”

He doesn’t reply. It’d be nice if he could just bury his face in their chest and never think of the answer that question ever. Maybe he _should_ tell them to take it back. But it’s a thought that’s been ghosting at the edge of his mind for a long, long while now, and Chara asking it outright... He can’t _not_ think about it.

Because when you get down to it, is there anything about him now that’s really like ‘Asriel’ anymore?

So the flower pulls away, and the child lets him go. He looks up at them, then away, mouth twisted, eyebrows furrowed. He tilts his head one way, then the other; then he breathes a long, surrendering sigh. “This has been on my mind for a while now, and... I don’t really see that anything else could be the truth. And I have a hunch you won’t like this, but I don’t want to lie to you anymore just to make you like me.”

“I... I see.” They swallow hard. “...Go on. Please.”

Hopefully that counts for something, then. For now, he gives them an uncharacteristically gentle smile. “Okay. Here goes, then.

“Chara... I don’t mind if YOU call me Asriel. Frisk can, too; they earned it. And in a lot of ways, it’s easier to talk as though we’re the same.” His smile fades. “But... Asriel is dead. His SOUL crumbled to dust a long, long time ago.”

All of a sudden, Chara can’t breathe. They know Flowey tried to let them brace themself, they know he tried to let them down easy, but it’s everything they’ve always feared. Their vision blurs, and before they can even try to fight that back, something rolls up their chest and bursts out their mouth like vomit, but even worse: a sob. They grit their teeth to try to hold the rest back, but then their tears overflow, and they’re making a high-pitched sound, and then they’re shuddering and shaking and their chest stutters and revs like a broken motorcycle engine and then it’s too late, they’re bawling in the most embarrassing, most vulnerable possible way, and they can’t even make themselves care.

_Chara?!_ Frisk cries inside their head, but the sound is lost to the throbbing of their skull. They shake their head from side to side as if to deny reality, then clutch their stomach and keen.

“Chara, Chara! What’s wrong with you?!” Flowey utters, alarmed. “Don’t be like that! Remember? Big kids don’t cr--”

“Shut up!! Shut up shut up shut up shut _up_!! How dare you throw my own words back in my face?!” Chara shrieks, the words storming out like a crowd evacuating a collapsing skyscraper. “What in this worthless world is worth crying over if not this?! I killed my best friend! I killed--” Their breath hitches. “I killed the one person I loved more than anyone else! And I... I can never undo that!! I can never...” They break into a fresh wave of tears.

“Wh... I...” Flowey hesitates, a rainbow of expressions flickering past his face at the speed of light. He settles on forcing a bright and sunny smile. “H-hey, it’s okay! His memories are still right here! I’m still Asriel if you want me to be!”

“Are you kidding me?! LOOK at yourself! _Look_ at yourself.” Chara sucks in a shuddering breath, releases a small sob, and cradles Flowey’s head between their trembling hands. Hoarse, they whisper, “This form you hate is all my fault.”

He leans up, expression clouded. They bow down low and rain teardrops on his petals.

“I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry... I can never, ever make this up... I’d give anything to undo this, anything and everything--but I can’t.” They gasp and shudder, almost folding in on themself. “I can’t.”

Flowey doesn’t answer, but he also doesn’t pull away. He droops down onto their lap until Chara has cried their fill. Within, Frisk does their best to soothe them wordlessly, to be a comforting presence, and it helps. After what seems like ages, they pick themself up, sniffling.

“Sorry for all that,” they mumble thickly. “And thank you, for telling me the truth, even though it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.”

“Oh... sure...” he replies, rising up.

They burble a watery laugh, sniff hard, and rub their face with the back of their hand. “Haha... Now you know how lame and hypocritical I really am. Maybe now you can go and find someone worth being friends with.”

Flowey’s smile is pained. “But the one I want is you, Chara.”

Despite everything, they smile back, but it soon crumbles. Then they tilt to one side until they’ve nearly sprawled out on the dirt and rock. They grab themself just in time--they don’t care about the dress they’re wearing, but Frisk probably does, since it’s on loan.

The flower clears his throat. “Hey... uh... you know what you said before? About how, uh... you loved Asriel more than anyone?”

They give him a bleary, weary stare. Of course they remember.

“He loved you just as much. Maybe even more,” Flowey offers. “I... I can’t feel anything for anyone anymore. It’s like there’s a great big glass wall between me and everyone else--I can see them, but I can’t reach through and touch them. Still, I felt something for you, sort of. Like a kind of yearning... The one last thing that meant anything.” His mouth tilts up. “How strong must his love have been, huh? To survive even after losing a SOUL! That’s really something.”

Does hearing this make them feel better or worse? They can’t tell. They take a deep breath and try to calm down enough to hear him out to the end.

“So... as the successor to those feelings... I just want you to know, knowing that you loved him more than anyone? That’s enough for me.” His smile dies. “I just wanted it to mean something. I wanted to be your best and only.”

“You were,” Chara whispers. “He was.”

Flowey glances away and falls silent. After a moment, he pulls himself up straight and nods once to himself. “Actually... can I confess something to you?”

“What?” they croak, pulling their palms down their cheeks to wipe them dry.

“Asriel... I... I-I mean, _he_ didn’t just love you. He was IN love with you.”

Their hands still.

“You were so funny and smart and clever. You always had the neatest ideas. He never got bored of you; you were always surprising him,” he continues. “You understood him like no one else did. Every day was new and fun just by having you in it. You came up with the best stories, and you weren’t afraid of _anything_ , and I just... the way you looked when you smiled the for-real smiles made me feel so warm and happy inside. I wanted to see you smile forever.” He smiles wistfully. “Maybe that’s why I came back like this. Just for the tiny, infinitesimal chance I might see you again.”

They begin to laugh again. This time, it’s shrill and uneven and painful and threatens to catch in their lungs.

Flowey bobs from one side to the other. “Chara...?”

“Funny? Smart? Clever? Who are you even talking about?” they warble. “I can’t take it; it’s too much!”

“What’re you talking about? Why is this upsetting you? I don’t get it! Chara, I was trying to do something nice for you! Why do you have to--”

“My parents beat me,” they blurt out, cutting him off as sure as a knife. Flowey stares at them, stunned, and they barrel on like an out-of-control train: “They did things I can’t bear to recount. The other kids were just as bad and the teachers egged them on. Everyone else in my village who bothered to listen told me it was my own fault. I was ostracized and outcast. Everyone hated me, and I hated everyone, but most of all I hated myself. I still hate myself. How could I not? I came to Mt. Ebott to kill myself, because I couldn’t stand being me anymore.”

Their giggles poke the air like needles. Flowey hasn’t spoken, and they don’t give him the chance: “I was always terrified Asriel would find out. For the first time in my life, here was someone who liked and admired me. I fed on that. I tricked him, over and over, because I was too afraid to tell him the truth. What would I do if he found out what I _really_ was? Not the legendary angel descended from the surface, but a filthy demon?”

Their laughter dissolves into a sob, and they shake their head, hair falling into their face to hide their eyes from view. “It’s too much. The one I loved died ages ago, and the one _he_ loved never existed in the first place.”

Shuddering breaths punctuate the silence that follows.

“You know...” Flowey speaks up quietly. “After we fought, and you nearly died again... I didn’t know what to do. If I’d lost you all over again, _and_ Frisk... what would the point of anything even be? And I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

“After I started treating all this like a game, I came up with a single scale for anything I experienced: whether something was ‘boring’ or ‘interesting.’ If it was ‘interesting’ enough, I’d even put off my own goals and plans to see how it shook out. That’s why I helped Frisk find their body, even though in the beginning, I had no intentions of letting them actually return to it. And I still think of things in terms of ‘boring’ or ‘interesting.’ Old habits, I guess. But that’s not really it? Not completely. And it never has been--I just didn’t realize it until recently.”

“...What do you mean?”

“I mean, instead of just a single line, I’ve got an x-axis and a y-axis.” He smiles. “The y-axis? Is ‘satisfying’ and ‘unsatisfying.’ Being with you and Frisk is... satisfying. Even if things are stupid or annoying. Even if we’re literally just sitting here staring at rocks. Even if you’re bawling your eyes out like a big baby, blubbering about what a huge loser you are. I’m _satisfied_ when I’m with you two. And... that’s a feeling I can’t get anywhere else, from anyone else.”

Chara’s eyes widen.

“What I’m trying to say is, uh... I just want to be with you, Chara. That really is enough for me. So I don’t care if you tricked me. I don’t care how _many_ times you trick me. ‘Asriel’ or ‘Flowey’... All I’ve _ever_ wanted is to be with you.”

“Flowey...” Their eyes water again, but before their tears can spill over, they lift him up and hug him close. He leans into them. “Thank you. I...” Their voice fails for a long moment. When they collect themselves, they clear their throat. “So, the stuff I lied about--it really doesn’t bother you?”

“What, that you’re a loser? As if. Who cares if your parents spanked you or whatever.”

Chara stiffens. “Don’t make fun of me. Not for that.”

“...Sorry.” He pauses. “I guess I don’t really understand what it’s like. I mean, what kind of parents would beat up their kid? Even _I_ think that’s weird. No wonder you told me this world was kill or be killed. If you can’t trust the people who raise you, who _can_ you trust?”

“...Thanks,” they murmur, relaxing. “Your parents were pretty great, though.”

“Mmm, yeah, I guess.”

“You don’t agree?”

“Asriel would’ve, wholeheartedly, but I don’t really care. And I tried to, you know I did! But the old hag and the sentimental fool don’t mean a thing to me.”

“That... kind of makes me sad. Sorry,” they add quickly, feeling him still in their arms, “I shouldn’t say that. I know you can’t help it. But I really like your parents. I was happy to be part of the household, even if I never really belonged.” They pull back and laugh a little, this time genuine. “God, you remember how smoopy they got with all that nose-nuzzling?”

“GOD, do I remember it,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “They were soooo embarrassing! I swear they did it on purpose just to annoy us.”

“Haha, yeah, for real! Can you even imagine being that in love with someone else?”

“...Yeah. Now that you mention it, I guess I can.”

Chara reddens. Their eyes lock onto Flowey’s, and for the longest time, all they can do--all they want to do--is gaze at each other. Then, with a bittersweet sigh, they glance away.

“I ruined that for them, too,” they murmur. “Now Toriel hates his guts, and Asgore’s so lonely he could literally die.”

“...That reminds me, I talked to Mo--I mean, the old hag earlier, while I was bathing,” Flowey says. He relays the conversation they had about why she left Asgore, what she said about how much one can tolerate from a loved one, and what she thought her children would want if they were alive. Chara listens quietly, hands settled on their lap. When he finishes, they smile without humor.

“She has no idea,” they murmur.

“I know, right? What an idiot,” Flowey agrees.

But Chara’s neither appeased nor cheered up. Instead, they ball their hands into fists. “I... I should tell her the truth. Both of them.”

He frowns. “Wait, what? Why? What good will that do?”

“Probably none,” they admit. “But they deserve to know. They believed in us all this time, R--Flowey.”

“Th-that’s not a good reason!” he protests.

But they shake their head. “A lot of people around them know the truth, or parts of it, anyway. And that’s not fair. I admit I’m scared they’ll hate me, but I’d rather they hear the truth directly from my mouth.”

“I’m still against it! There’s no point!”

Chara hesitates, blinking twice. “I won’t mention you, of course,” they hazard. “You’ve got the right to tell or keep what secrets you want.”

“I... Wh-what about Frisk? What do they think? They’ll suffer the backlash too, you know! And Asgore still needs that seventh SOUL! You really want to risk their life?”

They purse their lips. “That’s true. I _should_ confer with them.” Then they tilt their head, frowning. “But you’re not doing a good job of manipulating me into doing what you want, Flowey. Actually, you’re just making me question why you’re so dead-set against it.”

“Urgh...” He glances away. “Fine. You got me. I just hate it when they pity me. It doesn’t matter that they won’t know it’s _me_ ; they’ll still pity Asriel. And more importantly, I don’t want them to take you away. Not when I finally got you back.”

They nod once. “...Okay. I get it. I’ll talk to Frisk and think it through some more before I make up my mind. But just so you know, I want to. This is something I think I have to do.”

“...Can I talk to Frisk now?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No! I just want to talk to Frisk now.”

“...Okay. But... one last thing before I go?”

“Yeah?”

“And this might be mean too, but--”

“Just spit it out.”

“Fine, then.” They pause a beat. “You _do_ like Frisk for themself, right? Not because you can get to me through them?”

Flowey stares, stunned into silence.

“...That’s all I had to say,” Chara concludes. “Here they are.”

They shut their eyes and bow their head. When it lifts, it comes with a bleary squint and a soft smile.

“Hi,” says Frisk. “Thanks for thinking about me, Flowey. It means a lot.”

“...Yeah,” he mumbles, glancing away.

“What’d you want to talk about?”

“Nothing! I just... I just wanted to talk to you.”

They beam warmly, happiness filling up their chest like a balloon. “Thanks. What d’you wanna chat about?”

“I dunno. Pick something.”

“Did you like our date?”

“...Yeah. It was weird, but I liked that. I didn’t know what to expect, and that was fun.”

“What was your favorite part?”

“The part where you fed me,” he says with relish. “I like it when you wait on me hand and foot.”

“You really are bad, Flowey.”

“You knew that when you met me! It’s too late to run now!”

“Heehee. I know.” They pause. “Um... about Chara... it’s okay if you like them better than me. I understand. I’m a little sad, but I know how much you two mean to each other.”

“Ugh, could you not with the whole martyr routine? It really gets on my nerves.”

“S-sorry. I meant it, though...”

“Geez, I know you meant it! That’s why it gets on my nerves!” he chastises them. “Look, how many times do I have to say it? I’m satisfied around you. Sure, Chara’s part of why I like you, but that’s not all. You...” His pale face reddens. “...mean something to me. It makes a difference to me if you, personally, are here or not.” He flaps his leaves aggressively. “So don’t put yourself down, got it?! That’s _my_ job! I’m the cruel, mean-spirited jerk around here!” He settles. “Seriously. It’s bad enough coming from them. I don’t need you doing it, too.”

A lump rises in their throat. “...Thank you.”

“Wh--are you _crying_?! Geez! You crybaby!” He frowns fitfully, then leans in close, tone lowering. “Did I upset you? I didn’t mean to upset you. Was it something I said?”

They smile, emotion filling their heart. To think, it hasn’t been that long since Flowey would have mocked them for crying and left it at that. Now he’s actually concerned about how they feel. He really has changed.

Maybe they all have.

“No, I’m not upset... Before I came to the Underground, I used to think it didn’t matter if I were dead or alive. Nobody would notice or care if I was gone.” They wipe their eyes; thanks to Chara’s earlier bawling session, only a few tears squeezed out. “So it makes me happier than I can say to hear that.” They wrap their arms around him gently. “Flowey, I don’t mind if you can’t love me back. I’ll love you enough for both of us. Chara, too! No matter how much they hate themselves, I’ll love them even more.”

“Y-you sap. Save some of that love for yourself, wouldja...?” He nuzzles their face, then pulls away with a fretful frown. “Ugh. I want to be insulted Chara doubted me, but I know they were right to.” He pauses. “Hey. Make sure you talk them out of spilling the beans to the old bag and the old fool, all right? It’ll end up a disaster, I know it.”

“I’ll talk _to_ them,” Frisk replies. “But I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you’re worried about. Even if Toriel gets mad at Chara, I know she’d never hurt me, and Asgore... he really, really wanted to talk to Chara. I think we could work something out.”

Flowey stares up at them. Then he glances away.

“I, um, I hope that’s okay,” they add, pulling their arms away and carrying him with them. “I don’t want to take sides, but...”

“...No, it’s fine. I get why you say that. But I think I’m done for the night.”

“O-okay.” They help him onto the ground. “I hope tonight wasn’t too bad,” they add.

“No, it... it was nice. Thanks.” He digs his roots down and settles in, then looks up at Frisk. He nods them closer, and they settle onto their knees and lean forward. Once they’re close enough, he reaches up to kiss their cheek, then gives them an awkward smile. “Actually, I had a lot of fun. Let’s do it again sometime?”

Frisk blinks rapidly at him. Then they beam, cheeks flushed red. “Okay!”

His smile relaxes. “See you later... Frisk.”

And then he dives underground and is gone.

They watch the spot where he was for a moment longer, just in case; then they touch the spot where he kissed them. They wish they could have kissed him back, but this is more than good enough. The lean back onto their feet and stumble upright, then begin the trip back to Snowdin. They wash their face and hands in the first stream they come across--they’re sure their face is a mess after Chara cried so hard--and once they’re clean, they feel even more refreshed than before.

_You’re really happy,_ Chara observes. _It kind of makes me happy, too._

_Really?_ Frisk wonders, delighted.

_Yeah. So you know, I wasn’t doubting him, per se. I just wanted to make sure he thought about it. I don’t want you to be an afterthought. You deserve better than that._

They break into a skipping run. _Thanks, Chara! I really do love you._

_You too, you sap,_ they reply affectionately. _I’m glad your date went well._

_Me too! I’m glad you two got to talk things out._

_Yeah... I didn’t know how it would turn out for a while there. I didn’t mean to break down like that. God, I really am a loser._

_Actually, I kind of envied you. Sometimes I wish I could just scream and cry like that,_ Frisk admits. _That’s probably weird._

_It is, but that weirdness is why I like you. You’re not like the other humans._

_I dunno about that. I was too shy to talk to anybody, but I met a bunch of kids through the foster system. I think there’s probably a lot of kids like us out there._

_Really?_ Chara utters, startled.

_Yeah. At the very least, between your time and mine, there’s been six._

Six. Six human children who’d fallen down the mountain like them, despite the legends that those who climb it never return. _...True,_ they say slowly.

Frisk hops over a stream, careful not to get their shoes wet. Their dress is a little dirty, but they can brush that off once they get closer to Snowdin. _So you already know what I think about Toriel and Asgore,_ they remark. _I know you’re scared, but I’ll help explain things if you want._

Chara settles emotionally. _Thanks, Frisk. I want to try for myself to start, but if things go south, I’ll count on you._

They smile. How many people has Chara felt like they could count on, ever? It makes them feel good, knowing they have their trust. _I’ll give Toriel a call first, then,_ they say, pulling their phone from their pocket. _I bet she’ll be eas--oh, whoops. I forgot I turned this off._

When they fix that, they find approximately thirty missed phone calls, twenty of which come from Toriel, nine from Papyrus, one from Sans. Toriel’s sent half a dozen texts, too, with another half-dozen from Alphys and two more from Papyrus, to the theme of a single very clear message: please contact them back right away, because they’re afraid for their safety.

_Well,_ Frisk remarks after a pause, _at least we don’t have to figure out how to bring it up._

_Y-yeah._

They take a deep breath to try to quell a reflexive sense of foreboding (though is it theirs or is it Chara’s?), hit the auto-dial for Toriel, and hold the phone to their ear as it rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There used to be references to _Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon_ and _Princess Tutu_ in this chapter, but they have since been removed.


	34. Please Don't Cry Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -Flowey- continues.

“(What are you doing?)”  
\---

* CoolSkeleton95 has logged onto Undertweet.

CoolSkeleton95: ATTENTION, UNDERNET! I, COOLSKELETON95, AM ASKING ALL MY BELOVED FOLLOWERS FOR INFORMATION ON THE HUMAN WHO WAS ON MTT’S SHOW TONIGHT!

CoolSkeleton95: THEY ARE A GOOD FRIEND OF A GOOD FRIEND OF MINE! AND I AM WORRIED ABOUT THEM! IF ANYONE KNOWS IF THEY ARE SAFE OR NOT! PLEASE TELL ME RIGHT AWAY!!

CoolSkeleton95: THANK YOU!

* ALPHYS has logged onto Undertweet.

ALPHYS: OMG COOLSKELETON95 I HAVE TO TALK TO U RITE AWAY PLZ PM ME AS SOON AS U SEE THIS

* CoolSkeleton95 PMs ALPHYS with: WHAT IS GOING ON MY COOL FRIEND???

* ALPHYS PMs CoolSkeleton95 with: OMG PAPYRUS THANK GOD ITS AN EMERGENCY

* CoolSkeleton95 PMs: PAPYRUS?? WHO IS THIS RUGGED, DASHING, COOL-SOUNDING SKELETON OF WHOM YOU SPEAK???

* ALPHYS PMs: PAPYRUS DONT PLAY WTIH ME THIS IS ABT FRISK

* CoolSkeleton95 PMs: OH, SO YOU SAW MTT’S SPECIAL PROGRAMME TOO. =(

* ALPHYS PMs: yes and so did asgore omgggg i didnt think it would be this bad why am i always the worst im literally hyperventilating rn

* CoolSkeleton95: OH NO!

* CoolSkeleton95: FIRST: TAKE A FEW BREATHS INTO A PILLOW OR A BAG OR SOMETHING!

* CoolSkeleton95: ONE! TWO!

* CoolSkeleton95: ONE! TWO!

* ALPHYS: ok

* ALPHYS: ty

* CoolSkeleton95: YOU’RE WELCOME! NOW! WHY DO YOU SAY YOU ARE THE WORST WHEN THAT IS CLEARLY NOT TRUE???

* ALPHYS: b/c i invited asgore to watch it with undyne and me and thats why he even saw in the first place, i thought mbe if he saw what a good kid frisk is he wouldn’t want to hurt them anymore but he freaked and ran straight to them and my claws are shaking so bad still

* ALPHYS: undyne went after him but im just sitting here like the useless lump i am lmfao do u know if frisk is ok they havent answered my tests or anything

* ALPHYS: *texsts

* ALPHYS: *TEXTS

* ALPHYS: see i cant even spell rn i’m the litreal worst

* ALPHYS: LITERAL

* CoolSkeleton95: OK. THAT IS VERY BIG AND I UNDERSTAND WHY YOU ARE SO UPSET.

* CoolSkeleton95: ACTUALLY I AM VERY WORRIED FOR FRISK AS WELL. SANS BROUGHT A FRIEND OF HIS OVER, WHO IS ALSO A FRIEND OF FRISK’S, SO WE COULD ALL WATCH TOGETHER, AND THEY’RE BOTH VERY WORRIED ABOUT THEM TOO. SANS’S FRIEND HAS BEEN TRYING TO CALL FRISK NONSTOP AND THEY HAVEN’T ANSWERED HER CALLS YET EITHER.

* CoolSkeleton95: BUT!

* CoolSkeleton95: BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING!

* CoolSkeleton95: BECAUSE I CAN SEE YOU TYPING!!!

* CoolSkeleton95: WE BOTH SAW THEM GET AWAY! AND FLOWEY WAS WITH THEM! SO I’M SURE THEY’RE FINE!!

* CoolSkeleton95: THOUGH IT WOULD BE VERY NICE IF THEY WOULD ANSWER THEIR TEXTS OR CALLS SO WE COULD KNOW FOR SURE....

* CoolSkeleton95: BUT THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT!!!

* CoolSkeleton95: I THINK YOUR IDEA TO SHOW KING ASGORE WHAT A NICE HUMAN FRISK IS WAS A GOOD ONE! I WOULD’VE DONE THE SAME THING!

* CoolSkeleton95: THEREFORE YOU DID NOTHING WRONG! NYEH!

* ALPHYS: thx papyrus that does make me feel a litl better

* CoolSkeleton95: PLUS IF UNDYNE WENT AFTER ASGORE I’M SURE SHE’S CALMED HIM DOWN BY NOW! UNDYNE IS THE BEST AT WHAT SHE DOES!

* ALPHYS: papyrus

* ALPHYS: i know you meant that in a nice way

* ALPHYS: and i know you’re trying to help ME calm down

* ALPHYS: but do you really think “undyne” and “calm” go together

* CoolSkeleton95: .........

* CoolSkeleton95: YOU HAVE A POINT!!!

* CoolSkeleton95: STILL!

* CoolSkeleton95: I’M SURE SHE STOPPED ASGORE! SHE WOULDN’T WANT FRISK TO GET HURT EITHER!

* CoolSkeleton95: AND UNDYNE HAS ALWAYS BEEN EXTREMELY SERIOUS ABOUT CAPTURING A HUMAN SO I’M SURE IF KING ASGORE TALKS TO HER ABOUT IT HE’LL UNDERSTAND HOW NICE THEY ARE SINCE NOW SHE’S FRIENDS WITH THEM TOO!

* ALPHYS: i hope ur right

* CoolSkeleton95: NYEH! I’M ALWAYS RIGHT!! NYEH HEH HEH!!!

* CoolSkeleton95: SO WHAT EXACTLY HAPPENED?? ASGORE APPEARED ALL OF A SUDDEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SHOW!! WERE YOU THREE WATCHING IN NEW HOME??

* ALPHYS: yeah, like, i mentioned the idea to undyne and she thought it was a good idea so we both went to new home and said to asgore “hey there’s a show we’re going to watch tonight, d’you wanna watch it with us” and asgore’s a sweetie so of course he said yes

* ALPHYS: we kind of.... didn’t tell him...... what the show was going to be about......

* ALPHYS: that was my first mistake. or more accurately my latest mistake in a lifelong series of them rofl

* CoolSkeleton95: YOU DIDN’T MAKE A MISTAKE!! UNDYNE THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TOO! AND SHE DIDN’T TELL HIM WHAT IT WAS ABOUT EITHER! IT WAS JUST.......... A MINOR OVERSIGHT!! EVEN I COULD MAKE SUCH A THING!

* ALPHYS: hehe. thanks papyrus.

* ALPHYS: anyway he started to get upset when the program started and he realized what it was about but undyne convinced him that it would be worth watching so he stuck around

* ALPHYS: and he even started to enjoy it after a while, or it seemed like it?? but then, um

* ALPHYS: you know that part where frisk and flowey are feeding each other? and i’m pretty sure chara came out?

* CoolSkeleton95: YES! I REMEMBER THAT! I WEPT TEARS OF JOY! EXCEPT NOT REALLY BECAUSE I’M TOO COOL TO CRY, EVER.

* ALPHYS: lol!

* ALPHYS: well he went pale as a ghost and left immediately after that

* ALPHYS: me and undyne tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen

* ALPHYS: we didn’t think he’d actually go TO the restaurant until he actually showed up on the show though

* ALPHYS: undyne left almost immediately after that

* ALPHYS: wait actually she texted me a few minutes ago, let me read what it says

* ALPHYS: omg

* ALPHYS: she says she caught up w asgore and they’re coming back to new home together. im so relieved

* ALPHYS: apparently there was a big Thing at the restaurant after frisk got away

* CoolSkeleton95: ????

* ALPHYS: idk the details, i’ll tell you when i know

* ALPHYS: hey come to think--would sans be able to check in on frisk? he’s got his “shortcuts” and all

* CoolSkeleton95: I THOUGHT OF THAT TOO! BUT HE SAYS THEY DON’T WORK LIKE THAT, HE WOULD HAVE TO ACTUALLY KNOW WHERE THEY ARE TO CHECK IN ON THEM.

* ALPHYS: boo

* ALPHYS: Well, you are right about one thing. If they did get away then they’re probably okay rn.

* ALPHYS: although i’m not sure it was wise of them to go on a date with Flowey in the first place......

* CoolSkeleton95: WHY DO YOU SAY THAT??? THEY MAKE SUCH A CUTE COUPLE!!! AND IT’S ALL THANKS TO ME! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!!!!

* ALPHYS: Well--it’s complicated, I guess... Never mind, never mind. I’m probably just worrying for nothing, lol.

* CoolSkeleton95: OK! AND YOU SOUND LIKE YOU’RE DOING BETTER ALREADY! I CAN TELL BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT TYPING LIKE SANS ANYMORE!

* ALPHYS: LOL! I didn’t know you could zing your brother like that!

* CoolSkeleton95: I...... WASN’T TRYING TO???

* ALPHYS: Oh, uh

* ALPHYS: Never mind then??

* ALPHYS: ANYWAY wow here’s Undyne with Asgore already! I’ll update you later, okay?

* CoolSkeleton95: THANK YOU! IF I HEAR FROM FRISK, I’LL DO THE SAME! SO DON’T WORRY! NOBODY IS HURT (I THINK) AND YOU DID NOTHING WRONG!

* ALPHYS: Hehe. Thanks, Papyrus. You really are a great friend.

* CoolSkeleton95: NYEH HEH HEH HEH! THAT’S BECAUSE I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! I AM GREAT AT ALL TIMES!! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!

* ALPHYS: ^.^

* ALPHYS: See you later!

* CoolSkeleton95: SEE YOU LATER, ALLIGATOR!

* CoolSkeleton95: (THAT IS A “FIGURE OF SPEECH”! I DO NOT ACTUALLY THINK YOU ARE AN ALLIGATOR!)

* CoolSkeleton95: (ALTHOUGH IT WOULD BE COOL IF YOU WERE BECAUSE THEN LITTLE BIRDS WOULD CLEAN YOUR TEETH EVERY MORNING!!)

* ALPHYS: lol yeah that would be pretty cool!

* ALPHYS: But for real now, I gotta go. Bye!

* ALPHYS has logged off.

* CoolSkeleton95 has logged off.

\---  
I’m Doing What I Want. What’s It Look Like I’m Doing?  
\---

Alphys takes a deep breath as she turns off her phone. She knows she’ll turn it on again in five minutes because otherwise how is she supposed to get texts from Frisk or Papyrus or whoever, but turning it all the way off helps her feel like she’s completely resolved her earlier panic attack. She tucks it into her pocket and trundles over to the living room, where she joins Asgore at the dining table. She can hear Undyne making tea in the kitchen, so that reassures her where her girlfriend is. For now, she takes a deep breath and offers Asgore an awkward smile.

“S-so, um,” she begins, “th-that didn’t go the way I was hoping...”

He rubs the bridge of his nose. “I... apologize. I did not mean to alarm you, Alphys.”

“I-it’s okay! I mean, these things... happen,” she concludes lamely. “Um. Th-this might be prying, but... wh-what happened after Frisk left? Th-the cameras stopped right after that...”

He looks up at her with a mournful smile. “Alphys. You are truly fond of that human, are you not?”

“I! Well! Um!” she babbles, eyes darting away. “W-well! They’re! A good kid!! E-even Undyne thinks so!”

“THEY’RE MY BESTIE!!!” Undyne roars from the next room. “YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO FIGHT ‘EM, ASGORE!!!”

He chuckles, and he actually sounds a little more cheerful until the next instant, when his entire body sags again. “The restaurant-goers said many similar things as well. It seems that human has befriended a great many of our kind.”

“Y-yeah. They’re really nice. You’d know that too if you talked to them a little,” Alphys wheedles. “I-I know we’re just one SOUL away from breaking the barrier, but, um. Does it really have to be _their_ SOUL? Couldn’t we just, you know... wait for the next one??”

Asgore looks up at her. “And if that human is also a good child?”

Alphys clamps her mouth shut and looks away.

He folds his paws and bows his head. “Alphys. I do not believe that any of the children I murdered were ‘bad’ humans, per se. Nonetheless, to give hope to monsterkind, I needed to kill them. Until now, that is what I believed my people wanted--what they _needed_.” He looks up at Alphys. “I asked the monsters at the restaurant this: did they wish me to spare the human and so delay our departure to the surface? If I do spare this human, do they still desire war against humanity? If they do, is that not unfair to the human? If they do not, does that mean that there is no need to break the barrier at all?”

Undyne walks in from the kitchen, a tray over one arm, with a concerned frown. She meets Alphys’s eyes, then walks around, sets teacups and pours tea for the three of them, and takes the chair next to her. Asgore pauses for her, then gives her a wan smile and looks to both.

“I’m afraid,” he concludes, “that no one could give me an answer.”

“Yeah,” Undyne says, unusually subdued. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hate humans. Most of ‘em, anyway. But... I can’t see Frisk being okay with us going to war with their kind.” She scratches her head. “I don’t know. When you put it like that... I dunno.”

“These are the questions I grapple with every day,” Asgore says, smile fading.

“Um,” Alphys squeaks. “Y-you don’t _want_ to kill Frisk... do you?”

“No. I never wanted to kill any of those children.”

Undyne shoots a half-worried, half-confused glance between Asgore and Alphys.

“B-because you declared the war over Ch-Chara and A-Asriel, right?” she replies.

Asgore lifts his head, eyes widening in surprise. “...Yes.”

“A-and now you, um, you think Frisk m-might be related to Chara somehow.”

“How did you know?” he asks, back straightening.

“U-um, you called them ‘Chara’ just when they’d almost gotten out of the restaurant,” Alphys breathes, not daring to look him in the eyes. “The show ended only after they were gone.”

“Wait, what?” Undyne declares, staring at Asgore. “When did _that_ happen?”

“Shortly before you arrived,” he says, looking back at her. “It...” He sighs, laced with a hint of frustration. “Perhaps it was just my imagination.”

“Well actually--” Undyne begins, but Alphys waves her arms in her face and yells, “WOW HEY th-that must’ve been a real surprise for you huh Your Majesty?!”

He stares at her for a second, then nods. “Chara is dead, after all. They have been for a long time.” He sighs again, this time laden with sorrow. “I must have been seeing what I wanted to see. After all, if it were true, then that little flower...”

He trails off.

Undyne furrows her brows. “Wait, wasn’t that little flower Asr--”

“AAAHHH SO NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT YOUR MAJESTY,” Alphys yelps, thrusting herself in between Undyne and Asgore again with stubby arms flailing, “wh-what are you gonna do if the people d-decide they want Frisk to live after all, huh?!”

He blinks at her in rapid succession. Then he settles back in his seat, shifting his shadow; the ancient wood creaks under his weight as if sighing in sympathy. “I do not know. In a way, it will be a relief. But even if we all decided to accept living down here for good... I cannot undo what I have done.” His eyebrows droop. “When I think that those children may have all died in vain... I... I do not know how to feel. I only know that I can never be forgiven.”

Alphys blinks rapidly. The shadow Asgore casts looks awfully... deep. Like... fathomlessly deep. And symbols crawl at the edge, just like--

“Hey! That’s not true!” Undyne protests, making Alphys jump with a strangled squeak. “You’ve been trying your hardest to save everybody! Our hopes and dreams are still alive because YOU did what you had to do! Even if it wasn’t pretty!”

A faint chuckle rumbles in his chest, though there’s no humor in it. “Thank you, Undyne. But...” He pauses. “Please, tell me--knowing I cannot be forgiven, is it terrible of me to wish that I could be anyway?”

Alphys jerks her head over at him. Then she jerks her head down. The depth drains away from his shadow, leaving only a normal, pale gray. She blinks again and rubs her eyes; when she looks again, it’s like it never existed in the first place. She swallows hard.

“I-I, um,” she squeaks. “I-I think I-I understand h-how you feel, Asgore... I mean... You know... W-with the thing and all...”

He purses his lips, then nods. “Ah. Yes. The, ah. Extended family members. As it were.”

“Everyone’s been real happy to see their loved ones again!” Undyne cuts in quickly. “I haven’t heard any complaints! A lot’ve families have really come together over this!”

_Literally!!_ Alphys thinks, then shoves a hand on her mouth to stifle a snort-laugh. Kind of inappropriate, there. She looks back down again, but that sense of unreality doesn’t return. Was it her imagination? But weren’t those symbols Wingdings...? Maybe she ought to ask Sans or Papyrus about it... That’ll have to wait for later, though.

“Is something the matter, Alphys?” Asgore wonders. “You’ve seemed a bit off.”

“U-um, no, it’s nothing!” she insists, waving her hands. “It’s just, it’s a really serious thing to think about, and, well, you know...”

“You still feeling guilty?” Undyne guesses, hooking an arm around her. When Alphys doesn’t answer, she presses an affectionate kiss on the top of her spines. “Hey, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not OKAY okay, but I’m here for you. Same goes for you, Your Majesty!” She grins. “I don’t care what ANYONE says--including the both of you. I’ve _always_ got your backs!”

Alphys giggles despite everything and nuzzles foreheads with her girlfriend. Asgore smiles at the PDA, then discreetly looks away. “I am sorry that my orders led to so much emotional strife,” he rumbles. “You did the best that you could for me, Alphys.”

“N-no, n-not at all,” she stammers, waving her claws even as she curls up with Undyne. “I-I mean, you had no idea what I w-was even doing; I d-didn’t exactly give you updates...”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Nor did I ask for them.” Asgore clasps his hands together and looks up at his subjects--his friends. “I have been averting my eyes from the truth, haven’t I?”

“Whaaaat? No, no!” Undyne says at the same moment Alphys says, “Yes.”

All three fall silent.

“B-but, um,” she blurts out, fidgeting, “I-I haven’t been any better, s-so...”

Asgore raises a hand palm-out. “It is all right. I think... I need to think this over,” he says. He gets to his feet and carefully sets the chair back in its place. “Thank you both for inviting me to join you. I am sorry I spoiled the evening.”

“You didn’t spoil anything!” Undyne says loyally, standing up too. She grins wide and thumps her chest with a fist. “Didn’t I just tell you? I’ve got your back!”

“As long as I do not intend to kill your human friend, hmm?”

Undyne’s grin twitches. “Uuhhhh...”

He chuckles a little. “It is all right. For even you to think so highly of that human... Perhaps I can dare to hope once again.” He nods to Alphys. “You two are free to stay as long as you like, but if you leave back for your lab instead, please have a safe trip.”

“Okay. T-take care, Asgore,” Alphys says.

When Asgore has trundled down the hallway back to his room, Undyne looks down at her girlfriend with a troubled frown.

“Hey, Alphys,” she says. “I didn’t say anything ‘cuz I’m sure you know what you’re doing, but... why’d you stop me from telling Asgore about Chara and Asriel?”

Alphys looks around furtively, then gestures for Undyne to help her clean up the mostly-untouched tea and take it back to the kitchen. “I d-don’t think it’s bad for him to know,” she murmurs. “B-but like we agreed when you were supposed to give your report, it’d be b-better to let them have the chance to talk to Asgore themself.”

“Yeah, but they ran away,” Undyne argues, picking up the tray. “If they’re not gonna talk, shouldn’t one of us let him know what’s up? It’s not right for us to know and him to not.”

“I-I don’t know. We don’t know why they ran, after all. Maybe they got s-scared. I mean, wouldn’t you?”

“Hell no!” Undyne pauses. “But I guess I get why Frisk would’ve panicked,” she admits, then grins toothily. “Hell, any human would poop their pants, seeing the King of All Monsters waltz in on their date.”

Alphys snort-giggles and bumps Undyne on the arm. “ _Un_ dyne! Ewwww!!”

She laughs and bumps Alphys back. “Besides, Frisk’s a little toughie! They stared _me_ down and lived to tell the tale!”

“Didn’t they do that by running away, though?”

“THAT DOESN’T--” She pauses. “...Actually maybe you have a point there.”

“R-right. I mean, I hope they t-text back so we know what’s going on, but... until we know, I think we should l-let it be. Chara has the right to tell him the truth about themself from their own mouth. They didn’t get that chance with us. I-if they’d rather we do it for them... _then_ we can say something.”

“Yeah, okay,” Undyne concedes, setting the tray on the kitchen table and swigging one of the untouched cups down. She slams it down with a triumphant howl and adds, “Damn, why you gotta be so smart, Alphys?!”

She giggles, blushing. “Oh, I’m not that great...”

“The hell you aren’t!! C’mere!”

Undyne scoops Alphys up into both arms, dips her down, and kisses her. Alphys wraps her arms around Undyne’s neck and returns the passion. When they pull apart, they’re both flushed with giddy pleasure.

“D-damn, I really wanna ask you if you want to head back to the lab,” Alphys says, waggling her eyebrows.

Undyne cackles, red-faced. “Hell no! Why wait?!”

“You just d-don’t want to trek through the heat of Hotland.”

“Yeah, that too!! The only hot thing I wanna be around is YOU!!” She grins as Alphys half-sputters, half-squeals, then sobers. “Plus... I don’t know about leavin’ Asgore alone right now. I mean, he’s technically alone right now, but I mean ALONE alone, you know?”

Alphys nods. “Y-yeah, I know. Asgore said it was okay, s-so I think it’s a g-good idea to stay in New Home for a while longer... just in case.”

Besides which, there’s something she needs to watch out for--something she knows only she’ll recognize of everyone in New Home. If the signs in that shadow really were from Dr. Gaster, then was the shadow itself a disruption in reality? But if that’s true, then...

\---  
“(It looks as though you’re preparing to butt in unnecessarily again. Their newfound peace and calm has already been disrupted on its own. Isn’t that enough for you?)”  
\---

Papyrus leans back in his computer chair. Despite all the positivity he’d showered on Alphys, whose critical lack of self-esteem is one of the world’s biggest tragedies in his opinion, he’s awful worried too. He’d also sent Frisk several texts, and while he completely trusts Flowey to do his best to protect them, sometimes it’s hard not to fret. He heaves a sigh, but then stands tall. No, none of this sad-facing! Sans and Toriel are counting on him! He can’t let them down!

So when he strolls down the stairs, it’s with a bright smile. “Great news!!” he announces to the two monsters on the couch. “I got in touch with Dr. Alphys, and she says that Frisk and Flowey definitely made it away from MTT Resort!”

Toriel looks up, still dabbing tears with a handkerchief, while Sans sits next to her, rubbing what he can reach of her shoulder. “Then your friend heard from them?” she wonders hopefully, clutching her phone in her other paw.

Papyrus’s smile strains a little. What he said before was probably definitely basically the truth even if it isn’t quite literally what Alphys said, but this... he’s never been good at lying, any more than he’s ever been any good at telling if most anyone else is lying.

“Well... no,” he thus admits. When her face falls, he raises his mighty biceps. “But!! I know for a fact that King Asgore did not pursue them! My good friend Undyne, who is also Frisk’s good friend and the Captain of the Guard, caught up with him and brought him back to New Home!” He hurries the rest of the way down the stairs and rests a gentle hand on her other shoulder. “S-so please don’t cry anymore...”

She attempts a watery smile. “Thank you, Papyrus. You are a very sweet young man.”

Feeling himself blush, Papyrus rubs the back of his skull. “Nyeh heh heh heh!!”

Toriel dabs at her tears again with her handkerchief, but it’s like a leaky faucet: they keep trickling out one by one. “I cannot help but worry, though... I swear that I aged fifty years when I saw _that man_ on the screen,” she all but spits. “I was terrified that he would kill Frisk right before my eyes while I was helpless to act.”

“Nah, nah,” Sans murmurs, still rubbing her back. “All the monsters in that restaurant were on the kid’s side. You could tell by what they did. It wasn’t ever gonna come to that.”

She laughs, or more likely sobs. Papyrus frets and tries not to show it, but he knows he probably is anyway.

“You are probably right,” Toriel admits. She blows her nose and continues, “You must think I am a silly old woman, getting worked up over nothing.”

“...Nah.” His hand stills, and he averts his eyes. “Seeing someone you love in mortal danger, or what could be... Anyone would freak out over that.”

“...Thank you.”

Papyrus looks back and forth between Sans and Toriel. It’s not always easy for him to tell how people feel, but when they both look THAT miserable, he doesn’t need to devote mental energy to deciphering their expressions.

“I have an idea!!!” he announces, thumping a fist on his chest. “We are all extra-worried about Frisk because we haven’t eaten yet! A lack of healthy food makes everything seem worse than it really is! Therefore!! I will prepare all of us a feast of my ultra-special pasta!!!”

“That’s a great idea, bro,” Sans says, a little to Papyrus’s surprise, but not really, because Sans can be obnoxious sometimes but he usually knows greatness when he hears it. “Tori, why don’t you help? It might help take your mind off things if you can busy yourself with something.”

“Excellent thinking, Sans!!” Papyrus declares, thrusting a finger ceiling-wards. What a fine follow-up! He knew he could count on Sans. “Toriel! I have heard that you are also a world-class chef like myself! I would be thrilled to share a kitchen with you!!! Monsters will come from all over the Underground for but a mouthful of our combined culinary masterpiece!”

She laughs, and this time it actually is a laugh, he’s quite sure. “Oh, you both flatter me too much,” she says. “But you are right... It is better than sitting here doing nothing but worry.”

“Attagirl,” Sans encourages her, patting her once as she gets to her feet. Then he jabs a thumb towards the window at his back. “I’ll stay here and keep a socket out for the kiddo.”

“You just don’t want to get up, you lazybones!” Papyrus accuses, planting his hands on his hips.

He shrugs and winks. “Good thing I got a great view from here then, huh?”

“Oh, fine! Suit yourself!” Papyrus hooks an arm around Toriel’s and marches her to the other room. “Come, Toriel!! The stovetop awaits!”

Toriel smiles as she lets him lead her, and after checking messages one more time, tucks her phone into her pocket.

As a master spaghettore, Papyrus has to admit that he’s never seen Toriel’s style of pasta-cooking before. Taking the spaghetti out of the box and _gently_ putting it into the pot?? After filling the pot with water??? And letting it boil at _medium_ heat?????? This isn’t at all what Undyne taught him! It’s intriguing, though. A master should learn all walks of cuisine, and it seems to make Toriel happier to be helpful. At the very least, she is very involved, always marveling at his skills when he demonstrates and kindly offering to show him an alternate way, which Papyrus graciously accepts, because he’d be a poor host if he invited Toriel to join him in making dinner and then refused to let her help. He even lets her stop him from smashing the vegetables for the sauce and demonstrate how to... mince garlic?? And smash the tomatoes and other veggies in a way that _won’t_ get pulp all over the walls????? What a strange, fascinating new technique!

He does feel a little bad, though. To be honest, he kind of likes Toriel’s way better so far; it’s less messy. He hopes Undyne won’t take it personally.

As he cheerfully slices up mushrooms the way she showed him after he had punched several at full force, Toriel takes a thoughtful taste of the sauce and adds a bit more salt and pepper.

“This should come out quite nicely,” she remarks, stirring. Already she sounds much happier than before! “Thank you again for allowing me to help, Papyrus.”

“It’s no problem at all!” he declares, setting aside the mushrooms and starting in on the onions. “This has been a great amount of fun, and as any expert knows, you need to infuse fun into your cooking in order to convey the ultimate flavor!! Nyeh heh heh! Perhaps next time we can make a snail sauce! Sans tells me you love snails!”

“Oh! I do indeed,” she says, eyes sparkling. “Would that not then make it ‘snailghetti’?”

“Oh my god!!”

“Now that’s using your noodle!” Sans calls from the next room.

“OH MY GOD!!” Papyrus repeats, this time with deliberately overblown frustration. In his experience, there’s nothing a pun-lover loves better than someone who hates puns.

Toriel laughs heartily, and Papyrus huffs and pretends to be far more annoyed than he actually is. He scoops the onions, mushrooms, and garlic and puts them in the frying pan, which Toriel has already slicked with butter and put on low heat thanks to her fire magic. Then he and Toriel trade cooking utensils--she takes over the frying pan, then turns the heat off from the boiling pasta and leaves him to drain in the sink with the colander. He watches with interest as the water drips down the drain, and he shakes the colander a few times to get more of it out. Wowie! This spaghetti looks _much_ silkier! Too bad about the reduced fiber thanks to no box. Maybe he can shred it and add it to the sauce. It’s just not the same, otherwise.

“Toriel!” he declares, following this line of thought. “About that sauce--”

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry?”

He turns around, squinting. She sounds kind of distracted. He finds her facing not the stove but the opposite wall, one paw out.

“The stove is the other way!” he tells her helpfully.

“Oh--yes, I--of course,” she says, staring back at the wall. “Um... May I ask if you have some sort of ventilation system set up in here?”

“Huh?” What a weird question! “Do you need me to open a window?”

“Oh, no, that is not what I meant,” she says, stepping backwards and staring at the wall again. “It is just--there was a hole here.” She gestures at it. “It is gone now.”

Papyrus stares at the wall. There sure isn’t any hole there, now or ever. He squints and bends closer for a better look. There’s nothing there... but... He turns around quickly. It feels like he might have seen a hole on the other side, but the instant he blinks, there’s an afterimage of Wingdings and then it’s like it never was.

“That’s... weird,” he hazards, feeling uneasy. The last time he saw something like that, it was because of...

Toriel’s phone rings then, and both of them jump, then laugh at the broken tension. She takes out her phone, lights up at the display, and answers immediately.

“Frisk?! Hello?” she says, turning the flame under the frying pan to a tiny flicker. “Where are you? Are you all right?”

Papyrus is, of course, not a nosy skeleton. He is as well-mannered and discreet as he is handsome! But, well... can he really help it if this search for a mysterious disappearing hole takes him close enough to Toriel that he can hear the other side of the conversation?

“Yes,” Frisk’s voice says. “Why?”

“Why--? You were nearly killed by Asgore! I have been so worried! Are you unhurt? He did not send anyone after you and Flowey, did he?”

“Oh! No, no, I’m okay. We’re all okay,” they reply, sounding alarmed and tinny and distant. “How did you know about that?”

She explains briefly about the three of them watching TV together, and Frisk makes a hissing noise. 

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know,” they mumble. “I had my phone off until just now... Mettaton didn’t tell me until we showed up that it was getting broadcast. I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.”

Toriel heaves a sigh and rests a paw on her chest. “There, there. It is all right, my child,” she reassures them. “As long as you are safe, that is the important thing.”

“Um...” A brief silence follows; then: “There’s something I need to talk to you about. Are you still at Sans’s?”

“Yes.”

“Flowey and I said good-bye for tonight, so I’ll be there soon. Will you stay?”

“Of course. Please, be safe, Frisk. I will see you soon.”

She hangs up then, breathes another huge sigh, and wipes at the corners of her eyes. Papyrus stands up straight and beams at her.

“There, you see?!” he says. “Everything turned out okay after all!”

“Indeed. I am so relieved,” she murmurs. “Please allow me to finish up here. Papyrus, would you mind...?”

“Letting everyone else know they’re okay?? No problem!!” He rushes off upstairs to log on, barely noting as he passes that Sans has left the couch and the front door is open.

\---  
Peace And Calm Don’t Last Forever. That’s The Great Thing About Stories, As They Say. But The Story _I_ Want To See Is Much Grander Than This. Is That So Wrong?  
\---

As usual, Papyrus wasn’t wrong: part of why Sans offered to watch for Frisk was so he wouldn’t have to get up from the couch. But he is genuinely worried about them, too. Just because the rational side of his brain says that if Frisk got away from Asgore, which they did explicitly see, then they’re likely doing just fine, doesn’t mean something _couldn’t_ go wrong.

Something can always go wrong.

So Sans actually does keep watch out of the window with, for him, a decent degree of vigilance. Plus, hey, the town lights glowing off the snow is pretty relaxing, so bonus. He keeps an earhole out for his brother and his best friend, too, throws in a bad joke at an op _pun_ tune moment, and is rewarded with Toriel’s uproarious laughter and Papyrus’s exasperated grumbling. His grin widens, and just for the heck of it, he checks his phone.

Halfway through reading his messages (more like “making sure none are from Frisk and skimming through the rest”), something moves in the corner of his vision. Now, generally, Sans prefers to sit back and do nothing; not a lot will get him to move faster than a saunter’s pace.

The hint of Wingdings flashing by has him on his feet in an instant.

“Gaster?” he whispers, scanning the room. It moved from left to right, out the door. He follows, tromping down the porch steps and looking around at...

Nothing.

There’s no sign that anyone’s passed by or through: no footsteps, no disturbed snow save where he himself kicked it up. He smiles, self-deprecating, and rubs his skull. Of course. He ought to know better. Gaster said it himself: he has to stay on the other side of the looking glass. Then again, Sans heard that much after giving up on ever seeing him again, so maybe there’s no helping getting his hopes up. But, boy, it just feels worse and worse afterwards.

Sans settles down on the bottom step; being a skeleton, the cold and wet don’t bother him. At least the air is crisp. Maybe he’ll keep an eye out for the kids from here. He doesn’t really feel like getting back up...

A buzz in his pocket jolts him back to awareness. Huh. All of a sudden he’s gained a dusting of snow. Did he doze off for a few minutes? Well, whatever. He takes out his phone and sees a text--specifically an invitation to join a group text chat with Alphys and Papyrus. Naturally, he accepts. If Papyrus is doing this by chat rather than face-to-face, it’s probably good news about Frisk.

And it’s part of it--one of the first things he’s told is that Frisk called Toriel and let her know they’re okay and on their way back--but that isn’t actually the point.

‘so I know this might sound weird, but Papyrus brought it up and I had a similar experience so I wanted to ask you too, just in case,’ Alphys texts. ‘have you had a sense like Dr. Gaster was nearby today?

‘Like, maybe around a shadow that seemed way deeper than it ought to be?’

Sans’s eyes widen.

‘IT’S A LITTLE MORE VAGUE THAN THAT!’ Papyrus chimes in before he can formulate a response. ‘BUT I THINK THE PLAYER HAS BEEN GOING AROUND AND DAD HAS BEEN FOLLOWING HER!

‘OR... SOMETHING LIKE THAT. DAD DOESN’T LIKE HER VERY MUCH SO I DON’T THINK THEY’RE HANGING OUT AS FRIENDS.’

‘ANYWAY! IT WAS VERY SIMILAR TO MY EXPERIENCE IN WATERFALL! AND I HAD THIS SENSE JUST NOW IN THE HOUSE, RIGHT BEFORE FRISK CALLED! DID YOU NOTICE???’

Did he notice?

Sans looks up.

It’s late, so it’s dark. But there’s dark, and there’s _dark_ , and there’s dark so deep it’s like God took a pair of scissors and cut a hole out of space. A patch of it lurks between the trees.

Sans stands up, and it shifts to the left and vanishes, trailing familiar symbols. He follows it with his eyes. That’s the way to Waterfall. Is that meaningful? Gaster’s ‘room’ is that way. Is this some kind of struggle between the two of them? If there is, is there anything at all he can do about it? One thing he knows, it has to be deliberate. But deliberate on whose part? Is this the Player’s way of taunting the three of them? Or is Gaster trying to warn them the only way he can? Sans’s eternal smile creaks. Too many questions. Not enough answers.

For a moment longer, he keeps staring. Nothing else happens. Slowly, he lifts his phone. Alphys and Papyrus have both added a couple messages wondering if he’s actually there and paying attention.

‘sry bt that,’ he texts. ‘yeah. i noticed.’

\---  
“(...What is that supposed to mean?)”  
\---

When Flowey surfaces from his under-underground tunneling, it’s in as obscure a spot as he knows without leaving Waterfall entirely: a remote park bench in a spot reachable only by bridge seeds. There’s nobody here, and almost no one ever comes here. Only a single echo flower keeps him company, and it has nothing to say.

In other words, it’s the perfect spot to sulk.

He droops over the lazy stream that flows past the wooden planks, staring blankly at his reflection. In the distance, eventually, he hears someone come and go. Probably Frisk-and-Chara. He wants to go see them again despite having seen them literally ten minutes ago, and at the same time, he doesn’t.

“This is so stupid,” he mumbles to his reflection. “Chara, why do you want to tell them the truth so badly...? You’re all just going to make each other feel worse.”

Feel Worse, echoes a flower.

“There’s no way it won’t turn out awful,” he continues. “Either they’ll reject you and you’ll get even more depressed... or they’ll accept you, and then you won’t need me.”

Need Me, echoes a flower.

“And Frisk, you’re even worse!” he complains, briefly heated. “I told you I liked you. I even meant it. So you’re supposed to take _my_ side.”

_My_ Side, echoes a flower.

Flowey frowns and looks over his shoulder. That is the echo flower talking back to him, right? But something’s off. It’s a little too far away. He turns back towards his reflection.

His reflection leers back at him with a morbid crescent grin and a single red eye.

\---  
As If You Don’t Know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "“It is just--there was a hole here.” She gestures at it. “It is gone now.”" This is a reference to the video game _Silent Hill 2_.
> 
> "Peace And Calm Don’t Last Forever. That’s The Great Thing About Stories, As They Say." The Player is paraphrase-quoting Drosselmeyer from the anime _Princess Tutu_.


	35. I Want To Do The Right Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -??????- continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! The rough draft of the rest of _Strange Places_ is now complete. Bad news: it's a freaking mess, so it's going to need a lot of editing before it's presentable, and my beta reader's schedule has also gotten super-busy, so the posting schedule isn't going to pick up for a while yet. However, this means _SP_ **will** be completed, come what may. Unless something dramatic happens. Always possible. Knock on wood.
> 
> Anyway, since _SP_ 's rough draft is done, I'll probably go back to previous chapters and do some minor edits, and maybe some major edits depending on how I feel. If I do, I'll provide a list of chapters that were touched up next time around.

_You know, what you said got me thinking,_ Chara says suddenly.

Frisk jumps over a stream, careful not to get their borrowed shoes wet. It’s not much further before they reach the Ferryperson. _Which thing I said?_

_About the other fallen kids being like us. It’s starting to bother me._

_How so?_

_They’re all SOULs now. They’re dead, but they can’t pass on. They’re trapped in limbo, waiting for the day when Asgore uses them to break the barrier. Would their SOULs even survive that? Or would they just... shatter and fade to nothing?_

Frisk pauses, surprised despite themself. They’ve never, ever heard Chara express concern for another human before. _But there’s nothing we can do about that now._

They make a frustrated noise. _I know, but it still bothers me. Ugh, why did you have to say anything? It’d be easier if I could just assume they were your average garbage humans who got what was coming to them._

Frisk resumes their walk, slower this time. _Is that what you thought before?_

_I didn’t think anything. I didn’t care. I hate humans. Except for you,_ Chara adds.

They consider this, then look down the corridor. Gerson’s shop is just ahead. _I bet Gerson could tell us more about them. He’s been around forever, and he sold us the purple SOUL kid’s stuff way back._

Chara pauses. _You’re right,_ they say slowly. _He was around when Ree and I were alive. Odds are he’s met at least some of them._

_You wanna ask him?_

_I... I don’t know. Dwelling on something we can’t change... it’s a waste of time, right? You as much as said so yourself. And it’s not like we can save the little match girls._

Frisk doesn’t remark on the ribbon of bitterness that flavors Chara’s tone. That much is true, they have to admit. Even if they reset--which they’re not going to do again, ever, they tell themself fiercely--they wouldn’t be able to save the other kids. Just thinking about it starts to depress them. For the first time, Frisk thinks they might understand why Chara loathes their favorite short story so much.

_It might be worth it to remember them, though,_ they offer nonetheless. _To learn more about them and who they were before they died. I’d like that, if I were one of them._

Chara considers this. At length, they decide, _Yeah. Okay. Let’s poke our head in._

But when Frisk turns into Gerson’s shop, they find the ancient tortoise monster isn’t there. It’s a surprise to them both. They’ve seen item shop monsters not at their posts, but... in considerably different circumstances. And Chara points out, as Frisk would not remember, that Gerson hadn’t moved for anything. Frisk leaves the shop feeling a little worried.

“oh....... it’s you........ hi........”

They turn, brighten, and wave to Napstablook. The ghost floats closer.

“are you looking for Gerson........?”

They nod.

“he left a little while ago....... I guess you could tell......” They settle to a halt in front of Frisk, and a familiar-looking ring floats out of their incorporeal body. “By the way...... do you want a spider donut....... Muffet made me buy one....... I didn’t know how to tell her....... I can’t eat it......... if it’s not a ghost donut........”

“Wow, really? Thanks,” they say, accepting the slightly ectoplasmic donut and tucking it into a pocket. “That must’ve been expensive.”

“woah........ you can talk......... i mean......... i kind of thought you couldn’t.........”  
Frisk rubs the back of their neck and shrugs. Have they really never spoken to Napstablook before? Now they feel a little bad.

“oh....... that was rude of me........ oh no......... i’m sorry, i wasn’t thinking.......... oh no.........”

“It’s okay!” Frisk is quick to reassure them before they vanish. “By the way, you called in on Mettaton’s show a while back, right? When he and I were fighting?”

“Oh....... were you two fighting.........? I couldn’t tell.........”

“Uhh... we were play-fighting,” Frisk says, scratching their cheek. “More or less. It was for TV, you know?” That’s technically the truth, after all.

“Oh...... okay...... that’s good....... you looked good on TV......... I’m glad Mettaton decided to stay........ I really like his show.......”

They smile. “Me too.”

Napstablook chuckles a little, looking slightly more cheerful. It doesn’t last. “Oh...... you were looking for Gerson, weren’t you...... sorry...... I’ve been keeping you.......”

“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t know where he went.”

“Oh..... no......? oh...... um...... maybe this isn’t my business, but....... i overheard him saying he was going to the temmie village....... to sell some stuff....... does that help.......?”

They brighten and clap their hands. “It does! Thanks so much, Napstablook! You’re the best!”

They chuckle a little more, a faint blue-rosy tinge coming to their cheeks that fascinates Chara. “Hehe........ I’m glad I could help........”

“You were a lot of help. Thanks again, and see you later!”

Frisk and Napstablook wave good-bye to each other, and the human turns back the way they came to trace the glowing grass paths to the Temmie Village. It’s a logical place for a shopkeeper to go, in retrospect; the Tem Shop will buy anything, so if Gerson has some stock to get rid of, that’s the place to do it. And, fortunately for them, it’s not far at all.

When they get there, the village is as lively as ever. Despite this, a small white dog sleeps peacefully in one of the corners. Frisk almost pets one of the temmies before Chara reminds them that they--and she--are allergic. It would be bad if they broke out in hoives.

They walk into the Tem Shop, and sure enough, Gerson is cackling with Temmie as he picks up a very light-looking sack. When he turns around, his filmy eyes rest on them, and he peers at them before breaking into a wide grin.

“Well, if it isn’t the human! Fancy meeting you here!” he declares, trundling over. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages, you little whippersnapper! Wahahaha!”

“Hi,” Frisk says with a slight smile. They wave over to Temmie, who is vibrating intensely over her newly-purchased goods, and Temmie springs a grin of her own at them. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Eh? What’s that?”

They turn to follow Gerson as he shuffles out of the shop, and stop with him when he gets out of the way of the entrance. Basic courtesy to a fellow shopkeeper, they suppose. They tell him their request, and he squints again as he leans his head closer.

“So you want to hear about the other human kids who fell down here, eh?”

They nod.

“Hmmm... I can’t say that I remember much, but I’ll tell you what I can! Come over and sit with an old monster, would you?”

They follow him over to the opposite wall, where he rests his shell and pulls out a couple of brightly colored packets of Temmie Flakes. When they sit down next to him, he offers them one.

“Onionsan’s crazy about these things, so I pick up some for ‘em when I can,” he declares as they accept it. He winks, lowers his voice, and adds, “Personally, I think they taste like cardboard. Wahaha!”

They smile, open the packet, empty the contents into their mouth, and swallow. Their mouth twists, and they nod. Yeah, they do taste like cardboard. “So what do you remember about those other kids?” they ask. “Like the one with the notebook and the cloudy glasses?”

“Hmmm. Now how’d you know those things used to belong to a human?” Gerson wonders, eyeballing them. Then he shrugs. “Well, it’s true enough. It’s amazing, how far knick-knacks will travel. Those kids’s bodies are still up at New Home, you know. You might’ve seen the coffins on your way to see King Fluffybuns.”

They remember those. So, too, does Chara. Their remark is that they were as comfortable as they looked. Frisk tries not to think about that too hard.

“I didn’t know those kids too well, mind you. Half of ‘em I never even got a chance to talk to. They all seemed to just pass through; didn’t come back the other way like you do. But--darnedest thing--each one I met, I felt like I wasn’t meetin’ ‘em for the first time. Strange, huh?”

Frisk thinks back to Toriel. She’d said the same thing in the second and third timelines. Papyrus had thought there was something familiar about them in the third timeline, too. “Not that strange.”

“So, we’ll start with the kid with the glasses--what was their name again? Anyway, they were real curious about everything. I knew them the best; we had a long chat about this and that when they dropped by the shop. They asked all kinds of questions about everything, wrote it all down in their notebook. I admit, I felt bad for ‘em.” He strokes his chin. “I got the sense they thought they could find a way to pass through the barrier without a boss monster SOUL and talk ol’ Fluffybuns into sparing ‘em if they just knew more. Not a bad kid, that one, as humans go. Naïve, but not a bad ‘un. But...”

“...it didn’t work,” Frisk concludes quietly.

“I’m sure they didn’t make it easy for Asgore,” Gerson replies with a nod. “It’s real hard to kill someone who doesn’t want to fight you. He told me later, thanks to all that, he came up with a technique to make it so the humans would _have_ to fight. To make it fair, y’see.” He shakes his head. “That’s Asgore for you.”

Frisk thinks back to the ripple of shock that had coursed through them and Chara when Asgore had first made it impossible to show mercy. They weren’t a stranger to fighting at that point, but that more than anything else made it clear to them that there was no going back, no other option. Chara had been _very_ upset about that, so much so that they said almost nothing. Just like how they’d been with Toriel, looking back. So the purple SOUL child had been the reason for that... “Oh,” they utter.

“That was, let me think...” He strokes his chin. “The... fourth kid who ended up down here after Asgore declared war. Nice kid. Good listener. Real shame, how it had to go. Dang if I can’t remember their name at all.”

“What about the other kids?”

“Let’s see--I remember I talked to the first kid. Always toying with a cute little ribbon in their hair. Another good listener, real patient-like. Can’t seem to recall what we talked about anymore, but they were real polite, real respectful. I recall thinking, if this is the first SOUL Asgore’s going to have to take, he’s gonna be in real trouble. ’course, he managed in the end. I heard later they fought mostly defensively. They weren’t too good at being aggressive, though they gave it their best shot. Maybe that’s why they lost.”

They nod and consider this, criss-crossing their fingers.

“The next one was a lot feistier. They picked a lot of fights, though they didn’t always finish ‘em. A lot of monsters were scared of ‘em. Never knew who they would or wouldn’t hit, people said. Like the last kid, the one before you--they killed a few monsters, but I hear they only fought ones who attacked ‘em first. Not that that matters to the monsters they killed or the friends and family those monsters left behind. Those two were the rowdiest of the lot. Never talked to either of those, but I hear the second kid wasn’t interested in going home, just in facing off against someone strong, and the sixth kid wanted to take out the Monster King who’d killed the humans before them.

“The fifth kid was a lot like you--just wanted to make friends. Never got a chance to meet ‘em, but I know for a fact they weren’t interested in goin’ home. They stuck around for quite a while, in fact, cookin’ for monsters in Hotland. But, one day, they decided to go face the King. I heard they learned what happened to the other humans and were real upset about it. Not just at him, but all monsters, supposedly. Might’ve felt betrayed. Fought a lot harder than you’d figure, too. But, well, they still died. Could be they didn’t have it in ’em to kill someone, I reckon.

“The third kid, now, I met them once. Real interesting human, that one; talked a lot more than the fourth or the first. Had a real fierce gleam in their eye, and always stood up straight. They had some real strong ideas that they weren’t willing to compromise on. Good thing those ideas didn’t involve killing monsters; they just wanted to dance. They didn’t take no guff neither, though, and I hear they didn’t hold back against Asgore, too, so can’t say they were totally against fighting.”

_Sounds like a real mix,_ Frisk thinks.

_I’m not surprised about the murderous ones. That’s humans for you,_ Chara spits.

_We killed a lot of monsters our first two tries,_ Frisk points out.

_...Naturally. We’re human too, aren’t we?_

Frisk finds this point difficult to argue. All the same, they reply, _Even so, they all helped me survive Omega Flowey. I don’t want to dismiss any of them._

Chara falls silent at this.

“But, well, ol’ Fluffybuns _was_ after their SOUL,” Gerson continues. “It’s only natural you’d fight back if someone was tryin’ ta kill ya. Haven’t ever seen a human like you before who won’t fight at all! Wahaha!”

Frisk grips their knees. “I’ve made mistakes, too. My hands aren’t clean,” they murmur.

“Mistakes, eh? Everybody makes those. Part o’ livin’,” Gerson replies, unfazed. “You don’t live as long as I have without accepting that.”

_Easier said than done,_ Chara remarks wryly. Frisk finds they agree.

“Did anyone you talked to ever mention anything about why they came to Mt. Ebott, or what their lives were like before?” they ask to change the subject.

Gerson ponders this for a long moment. “You know... I can’t recall. Now, it could just be that I forgot what I was told, but I got this feeling like I never heard in the first place.” He taps his chin and looks down at them. “Funny thing for a child to do, coming to a mountain they say no one ever returns from. I’d’n’t it?”

Frisk averts their eyes. Inside them, Chara remains silent.

“...Well, if any of those kids ever wanted to talk about it, I’m sure they would’ve. But they didn’t. So who can say?” he continues.

_Who indeed,_ Chara speaks up.

“What about what they’d do after they fought Asgore? You mentioned something like that for a couple of them--did any of them want to go back home?” Frisk presses.

“Hmm... Hmmmm... _Did_ any of them...? Hard to say. I can tell you for sure that Asgore killed all six of ‘em when they came to pass through the barrier, so they all risked their lives to leave the Underground. But on the other claw, the surface is a wide, wide place. You’d think if they missed ‘home’ that much, they’d have said something about it instead of talking about testing their strength or learning about monsters or punishing murderers, eh?”

“I guess...”

“Why do _you_ want to go home?”

“Me?”

“That’s right. You went to New Home, didn’t’cha? You wouldn’t go where someone’s waitin’ to kill ya if you didn’t want to leave the Underground, right? You miss home that much?”

_Not really,_ they don’t say. They shield the thought from their companion, too. Not wanting to get someone in trouble isn’t the same as loving and missing them, they’ve come to realize. They’re happier down here than they ever were on the surface. But so many monsters are unhappy down here, and have been for centuries.

“I don’t want to kill Asgore,” they reply aloud. “And I don’t want him to get killed, either.”

Gerson nods. Thoughtful silence hangs like a noose in the air.

“For a while, I thought... maybe it would be best to let him have my SOUL. So everyone can go free. It’s not fair to everyone who’s been trapped down here to keep living in misery.”

“Ah.” He nods again. “I see.”

Sensing that Gerson is waiting for them to continue, Frisk adds, “But recently, I realized I don’t really want that, either. Self-sacrifice... didn’t solve anything. So I want to be happy and alive, and I want the people I love to be happy and alive, too. And that’s all the monsters.”

“That’s a mighty noble goal.”

“Is that possible?”

“Normally, I’d say ‘no,’ but... you humans are awful determined. I’ve seen firsthand what you fellers can do when you set your mind to it,” Gerson replies, turning his head to consider the snoozing dog. “The question is, are you determined _enough_? ...That’s harder to say.”

Frisk considers this. Are they? They don’t really know. But they do have something--or rather, someone--that the other kids didn’t. “I think I can get Asgore to listen to me,” they say. “Though I need to talk to someone else first.”

“Good luck, little fella.”

They tilt their head at him. “Is that okay by you? You don’t like humans, do you?”

“I don’t really care one way or another ‘bout humans,” he replies with a shrug. “If you’re askin’ if I hold a grudge over the war, then the answer’s no. If you’re askin’ if I _trust_ humans... the answer’s still no.” He winks. “Though there’s a few exceptions.”

Frisk smiles and nods. That seems reasonable.

“The same goes for Asgore, but he’s dug himself a hole he can’t climb out of. Maybe it’d be different if the Queen were still here... maybe not, though,” Gerson continues. “There’s no undoing what’s already been done.”

A pang aches inside Frisk. It takes them a few seconds to realize that its source is Chara. “...That’s true,” they agree. “But I think it’s never too late to stop making a mistake and do what you can to fix it.”

He eyeballs them like a brand-new shipment of potentially rotten crabapples. “Even if the ones who suffered from your mistake won’t forgive you?”

Frisk’s shoulders hitch up, and they feel Chara tense inside them too. For a moment, they wonder if Gerson already knows, or at least has guessed at, the truth. But...

“I think... that’s okay,” they say slowly, searching through their feelings as they speak. “If I hurt someone that badly, I wouldn’t want to make them change their mind about me. And I wouldn’t stop trying to fix things just because I didn’t get forgiven, either. I just... I want to do the right thing, no matter how other people feel about me.”

Gerson eyes them for a moment longer. Then a smile creases his face. “Well said,” he says, patting the top of their head. “Sounds like you’ve given it a lot of thought, kiddo. You oughtta be fine, then. Help an old monster up?”

A little puzzled, Frisk pushes up to their feet and gives Gerson a hand to do the same. “Fine about what?” they wonder.

“Eh? What about what?”

They decide to drop it. “Thanks for talking to me. I should get going, though.”

“That so? Take care out there, then,” he replies. He winks at them again and adds, “Give the Queen my regards.”

He cackles as he hobbles out of the village, and Frisk stares at his shelled back. Behind them, the little dog perks its head up at all the noise, tail beginning to wag.

_So he did know,_ they say to Chara.

_He always was perceptive,_ Chara replies. They pause, then add, _So. You want to do the right thing, no matter how other people feel about you, huh? You really are strong._

_Huh? What d’you mean?_

_I wanted to do the right thing. But I was afraid of the people I loved learning the truth about me. I chose the path I did--well, because I wanted revenge, but also because I thought it would be better to die a martyr. Then at least their memories of me would stay good._

_Chara... I know what you mean, I think. What good am I, if I’m not helping someone else? So it’s better to give up what I am than to try to hold fast to my own life. But that won’t help anybody, will it?_

_...Right. It just causes more suffering. And I’ve had enough of that._ They pause. _Thanks for being here, Frisk. Thanks for being you._

They feel their face flush as a smile spreads across their face. Excited yapping draws their attention, and they turn around to see the little white dog rushing over to them. They yelp in delighted surprise as the pup jumps up on them and licks their face with all the fervent affection a dog can muster, and dissolve into laughter as they pet its fur. Papyrus might think this dog is annoying, but they’re quite fond of it, really.

Chara wills a desire to them, and they let their companion flow forward into their body. Their smile and laughter becomes Chara’s as the other child continues to do the exact same thing: pet a cute and over-enthusiastic dog.

_It’s like the one from your story,_ Frisk remarks affectionately.

_Huh? Oh--you remembered that?_

_Of course! I still want to hear the end!_

_Hehe. Once everything’s over. We still have a lot to do._

The little dog yips in their face, tail at top speed, and they blink down at the mutt. It hops down from them, wheels around in tight, excited circles, and then hops at them with another high-pitched bark. Curious, Chara reaches for it, only to watch it dash away several feet, turn around, and bark at them again. They laugh and follow it to the entrance of the Temmie Village, and once there...

“hOI!! i’m temmie!!!” squeaks one of the tems.

“ _Bark_!” barks the dog, wagging its tail at it.

“hOI!! i’m temmie!!!” squeaks Temmie, vibrating.

“ _Bark_!” barks the dog, hopping up and down.

“hOI!! i’m temmie!!!” squeaks Temmie, momentarily turning upside down.

“ _Bark_!” barks the dog, before spinning around in a circle and falling asleep.

Chara watches this, befuddled. “What was that all about?” they wonder.

“hOI! i’m temmie!!” Temmie informs them.

“Oh. Well, if you say so,” they say, smiling slightly.

They squat to pat the dog on the head. When it wakes up to nose their pocket and whine, they pull out the spider donut Napstablook gave Frisk, break it in half, and give it and Temmie a piece apiece. Both of them yip with excitement before devouring their donut halves, and Chara laughs and stands up. They turn to leave, trading places with Frisk as they walk without so much as a hitch mid-step.

_Let’s go. Toriel must be worried about us._

_Right,_ Frisk agrees, carrying on the pace as naturally as if it had been their own.

The annoying dog lifts his head once their back is turned. Temmie wags her tail in unison with his as they both watch the children head back onto their own path.

\---

“WAUGH!!” Flowey yelps, wheeling his leaves as he rears away from the stream.

His reflection snickers as it bobs up and down. You’re Really Funny, Flowey, it says.

No, _she_ says. He remembers what Chara told him earlier. He scowls at the otherworlder. “Get lost,” he commands. “No one invited you here.”

Aww, No? But I Brought Favors. Just The Thing For A Pity Party!

“ _Ugh_ ,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes. “You think you’re _soooo_ clever.”

The otherworlder giggles. God, no wonder Chara loathes her now. She’s _so_ obnoxious.

“Anyway, if you’re staying, I’m going,” Flowey concludes, and begins to pull himself back to softer ground.

It’s Hard, Isn’t It? When You Can’t Be What Others Want You To Be, she says, making him pause. When Others Won’t Be What You Need Them To Be.

“What would _you_ know about it?” he sneers.

She chortles. Nothing, Really. I Gave Up On Having Meaningful Relationships A Long Time Ago. They’re Too Exhausting; It’s Much Easier To Be Attached To No One.

Flowey sees the sense in this, of course. It was his operating philosophy for... how many timelines? He realizes he’s lost count. Chara was his exception, but--

Though, Just Because I Gave Up, It Doesn’t Mean I Don’t Occasionally Miss What I Once Had.

“Are you going somewhere with this?” he snaps.

You And Frisk And Chara All Get Along So Well Now.

That puts him on his guard. “Yeah? And?”

How Is That Going To Affect Your Plans?

He hesitates.

Still Going For Ultimate Power? ...Ha, Just Kidding. We Both Know You Only Wanted Power Because There Was Nothing Else To Do.

If he had skin, it’d be crawling. Yeah, _he_ knows that, but how does _she_?

What Was It You Said Again? Something Like ‘I Had Plans For That Power, But I Think I’d Be Satisfied Just Living On The Surface With You’? That Was So Sweet.

Oh, right. Of course she’d know. She was there too when he told Chara all that stuff. He nettles all the same. “Yeah, yeah, yuk it up. Like I care what you think.”

You Should! I’m A Big Fan Of Yours. I Totally Would Have Joined The Flowey Fan Club If I Could Have. Which Is Why I’m Concerned For You! This Little Underground Is So Cramped And Tiny. Even With Chara And Frisk Here, You’re Going To Get Bored Again. And When You Do, What Then? Will You Try For Ultimate Power Again After All?

The question makes him uneasy. Half of it is because, unlike his real reason for seeking power, he can’t recall ever mentioning the Flowey Fan Club that Papyrus tried to found in a few timelines to Frisk and therefore to their parasite here. How does she know about something that’s before her time, that he never told her or her host about? Did he mention it offhand at some point? Or did Papyrus spring the idea on Frisk sometime when Flowey couldn’t watch or overhear? That, he decides, is the likeliest scenario. But that doesn’t help, because the other half is because it’s a good question.

He knows himself pretty well: he told Frisk and Chara that he could be satisfied while still bored, but there’s still a correlation between the two. It’s why he conflated them all this time. Part of why he’d always liked Chara was that there was a sort of mystery to them--something closed off, something hidden, something he might still uncover one day. Now that he knows the truth... will his interest remain? There’s still Frisk after that, but he figured out something big about them today too. When will he decide that he’s too curious not to see how far he can push them before they’ll walk away? He doesn’t _want_ to be that, but once upon a time, he didn’t _want_ to be a killer, either. Now look at him.

Only the two of them have ever made him feel satisfied since he turned into a flower. If that feeling wanes and vanishes... what then, indeed?

“I... I don’t know,” he admits.

Hmmm. Then There’s Something You Need To Acknowledge.

“What’s that?”

You Can Only Get That Power If Asgore Brings Out The Six Souls So You Can Steal Them. If Chara And Frisk Make Peace, He’ll Put Them Away, And He’ll Have No Reason To Bring Them Out Again For Who Knows How Long. Possibly Not Ever. So If You’re Sure You Don’t Want It After All, That’s Fine. But If You’re Undecided, Realize That Your Last Chance Is Coming Up.

“Why are you telling me this?” he wonders, furrowing his eyebrows. “You were my enemy, too. When I killed Frisk, I was killing you, too. Why would you want me to be stronger?” He thinks on this for a second, then bares jagged teeth in a malicious grin. “Hee hee hee... Maybe I’ll grab that power just to kill YOU. I bet Chara’d like _that_!”

Ah, What Beautiful Friendship. I Wish I Had Someone Who’d Murder Everyone For Me. That Was A Joke, she adds. Ha Ha.

Flowey frowns. Then he rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he declares. “I was just joking, too. Frisk wouldn’t like it, the wimp.”

So Then You’re Contenting Yourself To Following Their Wishes?

“I guess I am.”

Even Though They’re Not Taking Your Side?

“Th-they don’t...” _Ugh_ , she had to have been listening in when he was whining. That’s so embarrassing. “Whatever,” he declares. “Frisk’s a goody-two-shoes. They’re just trying to do what they think is right. And Chara... just wants to fix their mistakes.” He glances away briefly. “Maybe I don’t agree with their choices, but they’re not _trying_ to hurt me.”

You Don’t Need To Mean To Hurt Someone To Hurt Them All The Same, she points out. I Know That Well. You Do, Too.

Flowey doesn’t have a retort for that.

It’d Be A Lot More Reassuring If They Could Just Do It Over If It Goes Badly, Huh?

“Yeah, well, they both decided they don’t want to reset and reload anymore,” he mutters sourly. “So if they mess up, we’re all just going to have to deal with it.”

Right. As Long As _They_ Have Control Of The Timeline, That’s Right.

He pauses. Is she implying what he thinks she is?

Say. What, In Your Experience, Do You Think Is The Best Way To Break Someone?

“What?” he utters, startled by the non-sequitur. Confusion hardens and shades into wariness. “Why do you ask?”

Oh, I’m Not Asking For Pointers, So You Know. I Have My Own Views On This Matter. I Just Want Your Perspective.

It’s still a shady thing to ask, but he’s spent so many timelines breaking people in various colorful ways that he can’t help but consider it. Upon considering it, it occurs to him that there’s a point in here worth making.

“Let’s see, then. Killing someone is the quickest, easiest way... but it’s also boring,” he begins, deciding to play along. “Once you’re dead, that’s it. There’s nothing else to do. So it’s actually better to kill the people _around_ someone, so they can suffer, knowing it’s their fault the people they know are dying. Or, if you want to draw it out some, you can get even the toughest monsters to beg if you’ve got their loved ones at your mercy--but to get them to take your threats seriously, sooner or later you’re going to have to kill someone.”

You Sure Like Murder, Huh?

He leers at his dark reflection. “Hee hee hee... It gets the job done, anyway. Oh, but ideally not the person they like best!” he adds. “If you take out the one they like best _first_ , the worst thing that could ever happen to them has already passed. You always want to dangle ‘it could get worse’ in front of them--give them a reason to do what you tell them to.”

I See, I See. That’s Pretty Wise. We Were Talking About How To Break Someone, Though, Not Control Them.

“I was getting to that! That was just an aside,” Flowey huffs. “So anyway, when you’re done playing with your toy and you want to go out with a bang... THAT’S when you kill the one they like best. Something slow and horrible works great, especially if you make them watch.” He smiles sunnily. “The despair of absolute helplessness as you watch the worst thing ever happen and you can’t do a thing to stop it... That’ll break _anyone_.”

Hahaha. You’re Pretty Twisted, Flowey. And That’s Your Personal Experience?

He keeps smiling, but his eyes narrow. “It sure is, ‘friend’! I’ve got _lots_ of experience. An otherworlder like you, who claims she’s not attached to anyone...” His smile widens. “Would just be a brand new challenge.”

Golly! That Sounds Like A Threat.

“Golly! How about that!” Flowey agrees.

That _Would_ Be A Challenge, For Sure. Your Ideas Are Solid, Though, So You’d Definitely Be Dangerous To Mess With.

“Aw, shucks, friend! You flatter me.” He sticks his tongue out playfully.

I Told You I Was A Fan! Actually, I’m Pretty Gratified Right Now. Our Views Are Pretty Similar... Though Mine Is Simpler In Scope, And The Murder Is Optional.

“Oh yeah?”

Mmhm. The Best Way To Break Someone, In My Opinion, Is To Give Them What They Want More Than Anything Else--And Then Take It Away.

Flowey’s smile flickers.

You And Frisk And Chara All Get Along So Well Now, she repeats sweetly.

Seed-like bullets shoot into existence in a ring over the surface of the water, then close in on the dark reflection, scattering it across a miniature geyser that sprays droplets everywhere. Flowey watches as the surface of the stream bobs violently, accepts the rain of its own water, and soon smooths out.

“You’re not going to touch them. Chara and Frisk belong to ME,” he says flatly.

The stream wobbles, faint ripples extending outwards from the center of his reflection. Lines of red spread in concentric circles. That’s Not Like You, Flowey, the Player observes. To Make Your Weak Points So Obvious, I Mean.

“I don’t care. And I’m not an idiot; you were listening in earlier, so I know you already know. It’s just that you’re awful slow to get the point, friend, so I decided to tell it to you straight.” He leans down to stare his reflection in the eye. “They. Belong. To _ME_.”

They Don’t, Really, she replies, unperturbed. They Belong To Themselves. You Can’t Actually Force Them To Do What You Want. Case In Point: Immediately Running Off To Blab To Toriel, Even Though You Told Them It’s A Bad Idea.

“Wow! You’re _really_ bad at getting the point! I didn’t know you were this stupid!” he chirps with forced cheer, bobbing back upright. “I’m getting sick and tired of repeating myself, so let me say it one last time: whatever problem I’ve got with them, that’s MY problem. There’s no room here for YOU to butt in. So get lost, and _stay_ lost!”

Suit Yourself. If You Want To Suffer Alone, That’s No Skin Off My Nose. But Before I Go, I Want To Clarify One Thing: I Wasn’t Threatening You. I Was _Warning_ You. If You Think About Everything I’ve Said So Far, You’ll Understand What I’m Getting At.

“Blah, blah, blah, blah. Get LOST!”

As You Wish. But If You Decide You’d Like A Few Words Later, Feel Free To Call For Me. Just Like How I Called For Chara...

Before he can decide whether or not to attack again, the shadows fade from the water, and the red light dims and vanishes. Flowey waits a moment, but nothing else changes; the otherworlder is good and gone. He has what he wanted.

So why doesn’t he feel satisfied?

With a frown, he moves back to solid ground and burrows into the earth. He’d better go check on Chara and Frisk--make sure they get to the old hag okay. ‘Ooh, I’m Just Trying To Warn You, Flowey! I Wasn’t Making Threats!’ Yeah, right. Like he trusts a word she says. Better to make sure his friends are safe than to shrug it off and end up sorry.

And it’s so bizarre to him, when he takes a second to reflect on it, that he can call them friends and _mean it_ even when he’s unhappy with them.


	36. At Least I Have You Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -??????- continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't done any previous-chapter edits yet. Life has been killing me. :,) Here's a new chapter, though.

“My child!!” Toriel cries out, rushing out of Papyrus’s house to scoop Frisk up in her arms. “I had been worried half to death over you! Are you all right?”

They squeak but don’t struggle or protest, and when she sets them down, they hold onto her arms and look up at her fretful face. Her expression melts into relief before their eyes, and she kneels down to hug them again even more fiercely.

“You are unharmed... I am overjoyed to see it!”

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” they murmur, feeling guilty. They don’t think that emotion is just Chara’s, at least. “And I’m sorry I lost your vase...”

“I appreciate your apology, but the important thing to me is that you are safe. There are other vases, but there is only one you, Frisk.”

They blush and glance over her shoulder at Papyrus and Sans, who wait with varying levels of patience on the porch. “Th-thank you... Um, I’m sorry for worrying you both too.”

“What?! Me, the great Papyrus, worry?! Nonsense!!” Papyrus declares, all but jogging in place. “The emotional bedrock of this household would NEVER worry!”

“Is that why you called Frisk like ten times?” Sans teases, grinning like usual, hands in his pockets.

“Sans!!! I just did that to help Mrs. Toriel like any good host would!!!”

Toriel releases them to hide a smile behind one paw. “He is correct, you know,” she tells Sans with a sparkle in her eye. “You have been a splendid host, Papyrus. I daresay I have never felt more welcome in another’s home.”

“Nyeh heh heh heh!!!” he chortles, cheekbones turning rosy.

Frisk smiles too, already feeling better. Intellectually, they knew their friends wouldn’t be angry at them, but emotionally, dread had lurked in the back of their mind until now. It hasn’t quite been defeated yet, though, and they take a deep breath and pat Toriel’s forearm. When she leans back to gaze at them, they give her a small smile.

To ease into it, they start, “Gerson says hi.”

“Oh!” She blinks twice, red eyes wide. “My goodness! That is a name I have not heard in a long time...” Her lips purse. “He... was courteous to you, I trust?”

_She means, he didn’t try to kill us, did he?_ Chara translates. Frisk nods.

“That is good... I am glad that he is well, then.”

“We talked a while. He gave us a lot to think about,” Frisk continues. “And so... um... can we talk? There’s a lot we need to tell you.”

Toriel blinks again, but doesn’t question their pronoun usage. “Of course.” She eases up onto her feet. Offering a hand to them, which they accept, she turns to the skeleton brothers. “Excuse me--may we borrow one of your rooms, please?”

“Certainly, Mrs. Toriel! You can use my room--up the stairs, first door on the left!” Papyrus volunteers. He sets his fists on his hips and glares down at Sans. “Because SOMEONE ELSE can’t keep THEIR room clean!!!”

“Hey, I know exactly where my sock collection is. That’s plenty clean,” Sans replies, unfazed.

“Some of your socks don’t even bend anymore!!!!”

“Nice. Fossilized edition. Makes ‘em more valuable.”

“SANS!!!!!!”

Toriel laughs into her free hand, and Frisk grins too. They don’t know if the brothers had intended on it or not, but that helped ease the mood even more. Sans winks at them as they pass by, and they suspect the two probably had.

\---

Once up in Papyrus’s room, Toriel eases herself onto the bed and Frisk climbs up to sit next to her. For a moment, quiet hangs in the air between them; then Toriel takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and turns to them.

“Well,” she says, “I am ready to hear what you have to say to me.”

Tension twangs Frisk’s spine and their heart begins to race, and although they know it’s Chara’s feelings making their body react, it’s hard not to get caught up in their nerves too. They take a deep breath of their own and criss-cross their fingers, inspecting their nails for a moment as they let each of them collect their thoughts.

“I think you probably know already,” they begin slowly, “but I’m not alone in my body.” They look up at her. “Chara is in here too. They have been since I fell down here.”

It’s a little off--when they think back, they didn’t hear Chara’s voice until after Flowey first tried to kill them and Toriel saved their life--but it’s close enough. Besides, it would be difficult at best to explain something that happened in a different timeline on top of their body-sharing. Judging by how tears well up in Toriel’s eyes, though, she believes them. It’s a relief to both of them, and less of a surprise than either would have thought. Looking back, she’s probably suspected for a while. It reassures Frisk to know she decided to wait for them to approach her with the truth on their own time, though Chara remains uncertain of themself.

“I see,” she whispers. “May I... speak with them, please?”

The child bows their head; when they lift it again, an unnatural smile fixes itself on their face, and they fidget while still keeping their hands clasped in their lap.

“Greetings,” says Chara.

“I had been afraid to hope, but--is it really you, Chara?” she whispers. “Is it truly...?”

They avert their eyes. “I’m sorry I never got to knit you that Mrs. Mom Lady sweater.”

With a choked sob, Toriel wraps her arms around them. Chara stiffens, then relaxes in gradual measures and lifts their hands to clutch at her dress.

“I can scarcely believe it,” she murmurs, weeping. “How did this come to be? Why are you sharing Frisk’s body with them?”

Chara leans their head on her shoulder. “It’s hard to explain; it just happened. One day I woke up and I was with them. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I...” They pull away, eyes averted. Tone stilted, they continue, “I must reveal something to you about me. About... the day Asriel and I died.”

Toriel pulls away too, eyes still damp but now also puzzled. “...I am listening.”

They curl their fingers into their palms and seek comfort from Frisk. Frisk gives it, a soothing warm cinnamon-apple cider scent that permeates their mindscape. Then they force themself to meet Toriel’s eyes and explain the plan to her.

It’s hard to keep looking her in the eye. As they tell her about the prank-gone-wrong buttercup pie and how it gave them the idea to poison themself, about the journey to the other side of the barrier, and about Asriel’s part in it all, her expression shifts from puzzlement to astonishment to horror, complete with hands held over her mouth. When the horror settles, her jaw clenches, and although Chara knows she won’t strike them, it’s hard to hold back a flinch. Bile in the back of their throat, they conclude with how they’d tried to force Asriel to kill the humans of their village but had failed, and how Asriel had died choosing peace. Toriel’s eyes are wet again by the time they finish, and so are Chara’s.

“I understand if you hate me,” they conclude stiffly, trying to ignore their blurry vision. “I know you hate Asgore now for the humans he killed. I would have killed many more if Asriel had let me have my way. And...” They swallow hard. “And I do not feel sorry for that. I never told you or Asgore this before, but I hate humans. I always have. We deserve to die for everything we have done.”

Her expression turns stricken, or at least they think it does; it’s hard to tell with how much their sight wobbles. 

“But I did not mean for Asriel to die. I swear it. And I wanted revenge. But I also wanted to free the monsters. I swear that, too. I-I wanted to show you the sun again.” Oh no--their tears are overflowing, and they can’t stop it. They duck their head; they can’t look Toriel in the face like this. “You all told me I was the hope of humans and monsters, but. That is not true. There is no way someone. As violent and disgusting as me. Could be the hope for anything. I was always afraid of it. But I k-knew it as fact after I poisoned Asgore. The b-best I could do. Was use my life. To set you all free. That is all I could ever be good for. But I failed at even that.

“I destroyed your family. I robbed the monsters of their hope. I ruined everything for everyone who ever did me any kindness.” A laugh bubbles up from their throat, light and fragile like spun glass. “And for _that_... I am sorry. I am sorrier than I can ever express...”

Even if she never forgives them for what they’ve done.

In truth, they don’t expect her to. Back when she’d gotten furious over Asgore getting sick from the buttercup pie, all they could do was laugh at how much of a hateful failure they were. Wasn’t it funny? As funny as the one about the kid who slept in the soil. She’d calmed down eventually, but they’d always suspected the bond between them had permanently broken. Though it eases it somewhat, even Frisk’s worried affection, smelling of vanilla incense, can’t smoke away Chara’s fear and self-loathing. If Toriel _does_ hate them, it’d be what they deserve, and thanks to Frisk’s conversation with Gerson, they’ve prepared themself for that. They’re more worried about how it might affect Frisk’s relationship with her. But...

“Oh, my child,” Toriel sobs, drawing them into her arms.

They tense in confusion, thrown by this. Is she trying to hug Frisk out of sympathy for having to share a body with them? But even Chara knows that doesn’t make sense, and they tilt their head up, blinking rapidly.

“I am so sorry, Chara,” she continues, stroking their hair as she weeps. “I am so sorry that you felt you needed to do that for us. I knew that it might be a burden to a child so young to be held aloft as the hope of monsters and humans, but I had no idea how immense that burden was for you, or how heavily it had been weighing on your heart.”

“I--i-it is fine. I never told you,” they murmur, glancing away as they slowly wrap their arms back around her.

“It is _not_ fine,” she insists. “I know you never quite viewed me as your mother, but as your foster caretaker, it remained my duty to look after you and your well-being. To think I did not notice how greatly you were suffering... how could I have been so blind? It is my fault and Asgore’s that you believed you could only repay us by choosing death.”

“I... But I... all of this is because of me...”

“That is untrue. I will not deny I disapprove of the decisions you made. But we were your guardians, and we overlooked your pain. If you believe that everything is because of you, then know that in turn is because our ineptitude.” She squeezes them a little tighter. “I am deeply, deeply sorry, Chara. If there is anyone I may hate, it is myself for failing you.”

It’s too much. They break into streams of tears and bury their face in her shoulder, sobbing. Toriel cries with them as they hold each other, stroking their hair and back, even now more concerned about their mental state than her own. Before long, she pulls them into her lap, and they drape against her, finally unafraid to let themself go.

Eventually, both of them quiet save for the occasional sniffle. Chara senses Frisk within, and they’re grateful for that when their head otherwise feels stuffed with cotton.

“Chara?” Toriel murmurs. When they make a small noise of acknowledgment, she continues, “May I ask you a few things?”

Though they’d rather not, they pull away to straighten their spine and nod once.

“You said that you hate humanity, but you appear to get along with Frisk. Do you two have an understanding, or...?”

They nod. “Frisk is... an exception. Don’t worry; I won’t hurt them.”

“Would you hurt another human if you were to meet one again?”

Chara takes a half-breath and clicks their teeth, eyes averted. “I... I don’t know. I don’t think so. No, I wouldn’t,” they conclude. “This is Frisk’s body, and they don’t want to hurt anyone. I want to respect their wishes.”

_Thank you,_ Frisk whispers.

_And... I’m starting to wonder if maybe some of the other kids in my old village were like you and me,_ they reply silently.

“I see... I am relieved to hear that.” Toriel pauses. “You said that you would not have regretted murdering the humans from the surface...?”

“Back then, yes. If it’d been _just_ me,” they reply, tucking their head under her chin. “The adults, at least, deserved it. I’m sure they went on to hurt other people. Maybe even other children like me.” They dig their fingers into her dress. “But... I never should have tried to make Asriel kill. That was wrong, and I regret it. I would undo it in a heartbeat if I could.”

“I see. Then between Frisk now and Asriel’s memory, there is no way you would ever do such a thing again. Am I correct?”

Given the previous timeline, Chara doesn’t know how to answer that. But Frisk emanates the same sentiment, and that reassures them. They nod.

“Thank goodness...” Toriel clears her throat. “I have one last question for you, Chara. You were able to return somehow...” She hesitates, and though they know what she’s going to ask, they still wait for her: “Is... _is_ Asriel...?”

They shake their head slowly and echo Flowey’s words: “Asriel is dead.”

“I... I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am sorry, too.” She rests a hand on top of their head, and when they look up, she draws them close again. “There is much for both of us to regret... but at least I have you again.”

“Tori--Mrs. Mom,” they murmur, fidgeting. Calling someone so kind and loving just ‘Mom’ had always felt wrong on their tongue. “Just... just so you know, Asriel didn’t like my plan. He tried to talk me out of it a few times, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“I am not surprised. Asriel always was smitten with you. He would have walked to hell and back if it meant capturing your heart. I expect he would not have liked any plan that necessitated your death.”

Chara feels their face heat up. _I feel stupid now,_ they complain to Frisk, embarrassed.

_It’s okay. It’s really hard to imagine someone could love you when you don’t even love yourself,_ Frisk replies. _I get it._

And they _do_ get it. Asriel had told them once that they were the only one who truly understood him, but Chara thinks the only one who truly understands _them_ may be Frisk. They wonder, hiding their concern, if that’s a betrayal of their love for Asriel.

Toriel heaves a sigh then, pulling away her arms and letting them have their space back. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Chara. It hurts, but I appreciate knowing. May I ask what you and Frisk intend to do now?”

“I think you can guess,” they reply.

“You intend to confront Asgore and have a similar discussion with him, do you not?”

Chara nods. “Frisk still wants you to come with us, and I agree.”

Her lips purse, and she glances away. “I do not know how helpful I would be. Asgore would not listen to me when first I spoke against his foolish war. I do not expect he will be any more open to reason now.”

“You’d be surprised,” Chara replies. “We’ve been to New Home. His kitchen is littered with recipes for butterscotch-cinnamon pie, and his fridge has a bucket of snails in it. Without a doubt, he misses you. I think if you talked to him again, he would listen to you this time.”

Toriel considers this in silence: a good sign, considering the reluctance on her face.

Chara waits a moment, then wonders, “Do you... ever miss him?”

“No. But... sometimes, I find I miss the person he used to be.”

They lower their gaze. “...May I ask you something?”

“What is it, my child?”

“You... um... what we said earlier... the way we both apologized... D-does that mean you don’t hate me?”

She softens. “Of course. You are my child, after all.”

“But what Asgore did isn’t that different from what I did,” they insist quietly. “What’s the difference between him and me?”

“Ah.” She pauses a beat. “It is a very simple difference. Asgore is a grown adult, who is well aware of what the repercussions of a war against humans would be. You were--are still, perhaps--a ten-year-old child, burdened unfairly with the pressure of a prophecy of the salvation of an entire race. Your circumstances are worlds apart.”

“...Even if I also wanted revenge?”

Toriel is silent for a moment. “Chara,” she says after it passes, “do you want me to censure you?”

They tilt their head away. “When Ree and I made the buttercup pie for Asgore, that was an accident. I didn’t know those flowers were poisonous. But you were furious...”

“And so it does not make sense to you that now, over a matter that you did on purpose, I am not angry?”

They nod.

“I suppose I cannot blame you. Of course you would be confused by such a contradiction.” She smiles, the expression wan. “The truth of the matter is, I am angry. But I recognize that you have suffered as a result of your actions, and I am satisfied that you regret them and will not do such a thing again. I do not see a need to compound to your unhappiness.”

“The same could be said of Asgore.”

She pauses. Then she sighs, smile fading. “...You are right. Perhaps the difference is that I have spent all this time grieving for you. The joy of having you alive again is enough to counterbalance whatever else I feel about your confession.” She crosses her hands over her chest. “What is more, I have tried in vain all this time to save the human children who fell into the Underground like you... However angry I may be, I cannot bear to direct it at you.”

Chara swallows hard. It’s so tempting to leave it at that. They really, truly want to believe her, and Frisk inside radiates certainty that she means it. They’re 99% sure she means it too, but the remaining 1% of doubt demands they reiterate their greatest sin in the plainest terms possible: “I killed Asriel... He’s dead because of me!”

Her eyes glisten. “Then let us grieve his passing together, Chara.”

And with that, it’s finally enough. With a choked sob, they throw their arms around her neck and squeeze her into the tightest hug they can manage. After she settles from her surprise, Toriel reciprocates. The two remain that way for a long time.

\---

Flowey droops away from Papyrus’s bedroom window to brood on the conversation on which he’d eavesdropped. So. Mom--Toriel--the old hag--really did let Chara off the hook. If she did, Asgore will almost definitely do the same. He always was softer on the two of them than she was. And Chara didn’t lie, did they? They told her exactly what he told them: that Asriel is dead. That’s the truth. Asriel turned to dust a long, long time ago.

So why is he so frustrated?

_Asriel always was smitten with you. He would have walked to hell and back if it meant capturing your heart,_ Toriel had said. Hah. How right she is, and she doesn’t even realize it! And it sure was funny how quick she was to make the blame her own when Chara was heaping it all on top of themself. Like mother, like son, he guesses.

He peeks back in through the window, and his resentment grows a little more when he sees Toriel and Chara still holding each other. It’s so stupid. Chara sure tried their hardest to make her mad at them, didn’t they? Except not really. If they REALLY wanted to try their hardest, they’d tell her about last timeline, when they slaughtered their way through the Underground. About how they and Frisk killed her _twice_. If Chara’s going to leave him out of it, then shouldn’t they come clean about everything? If Toriel and Asgore both forgive them, if Chara and Frisk pretend that the resets never happened, where’s that leave him, huh? Just a creepy weirdo sapient flower with the memories of a dead boss monster.

He wonders what would happen if he knocked on the window just now. He wonders what would happen if he tore it and half the wall down with a hailstorm of bullets. He does neither.

If Asriel is dead and Chara is (nominally) alive--if the monsters accept them--where does he belong? What’s his place in this mess? Does he just... pretend the resets never happened, too? Smiley Trashbag never talks about anything so Flowey’s 99% sure he won’t out him, and Chara and Frisk obviously won’t talk about it either. Who else knows? Alphys might’ve figured it out after bringing Chara down to the secret lab, and while she’s normally excellent at keeping secrets, after her change of heart, she might have blabbed to Undyne and Papyrus. Ugh... This is all such a headache.

If only Chara and Frisk would just reset this stupid timeline! What do either of them need anyone else for, anyway? As long as the three of them are together, that’s all the friends any of them need. That’s all the friends...

Voices start up again, and Flowey pokes his head back up to furtively watch, vines clinging to the shutters that hold him in place.

“Now that I think on it,” he hears Toriel say, “when Frisk asked me this morning to re-forge your dagger into a trowel, that request was actually from you, was it not?”

Chara nods, smiling slightly as they wipe their face with the back of their hand.

“I had wondered.” Her smile is fond and wistful. “Though I had feared to hope.”

“Can you do it?” they ask.

“I will do my best. I know how important that worn dagger was to you, after all. I do not think I ever saw you without it,” she replies. “May I ask how it came to break?”

They tilt their head to one side, fingers criss-crossing. “I broke it myself. I don’t... want to be the person who thought of it as a ‘real’ knife anymore.”

Flowey thinks back to that moment, and something inside him aches terribly.

“I see. Then I must make sure to fulfill your wishes.”

Their smile grows. It’s different from the fixed, tense thing they wear when they’re upset and trying to hide it; Flowey can tell. “Thank you.”

Toriel stands up from the bed, and they follow suit. “I must return to the Ruins to begin preparations; I doubt Sans or Papyrus have any reference books on blacksmithing. Would you like to come with me, or would you rather stay here for now?”

After a moment’s pause, Chara replies, “It’s okay with us either way. We know you’ll be busy, but there’s more space at the Ruins, and we can stay in our room while you work.” They pause again, then add, “Frisk says it’d be nice to have a sleepover with Papyrus if he’s okay with it, though.”

She chuckles and holds her hand out. “It certainly cannot hurt to ask. Shall we go?”

They nod and take her hand; when they next blink, their eyelids barely lift out of it. “OK,” says Frisk.

“Oh! Welcome back,” utters Toriel, opening the door for the two of them. “You two change places quite easily--I was a little surprised.”

Frisk giggles, but their response is lost on Flowey as they leave the room and the door shuts. He slinks away from the window and sinks to the snowy ground, pulling his vines with him as he goes. When he burrows and resurfaces, it’s in the space under the floorboards of the first story.

The conversation he overhears isn’t anything new or unexpected. Toriel’s going to leave to make Chara’s trowel for them, is it okay if they and Frisk stay, Papyrus enthusiastically accepting and immediately rushing into the kitchen to make pasta for the upcoming slumber party, Sans offering to walk back with them and help Frisk bring their overnight things... Normal, everyday, friend-and-family stuff. Boring stuff. Stuff that’s not for Flowey the Flower.

Right. It’s not for _Flowey_ at all.

It doesn’t take long for Frisk to go and come back, probably because of that trick the stupid skeleton uses. When they return, it’s midway through one of Frisk’s jokes--weird, Flowey thinks at first, until after the punchline, Trashbag laughs, and Frisk reveals it was a Chara joke they passed on. Given how both Chara and Sans said they weren’t really friends, it’s an unpleasant surprise when Sans praises them for it. Papyrus interrupting then to invite Frisk AND Chara to join him in making dinner doesn’t make it better, and the rancid cherry on top is how happily Frisk accepts.

If he had blood, it’d be boiling. It’s so unfair! Sure, Flowey could probably pop up in front of the front door and ask to join in, but like he’d want to join a party that has Smiley in it. And besides, the two of them together would probably ruin everyone else’s fun and stress Chara and Frisk out more. Ugh. _Ugh_. Chara thanked him for telling them the truth, but Flowey’s no idiot; he knows how much it upset them. He also knows that it’s only after Toriel that they calmed down, and only now with Papyrus and Sans that they’re cheering up. It’s so unfair. Just because he’s only the remains of Asriel doesn’t mean he can’t be anything for Chara--

_Are you “Asriel”? Or are you “Flowey”?_

Oh.

_I killed him. I killed my best friend, and I can never take that back!_

“ _Oh_ ,” he realizes.

Why didn’t he realize it before? It was so obvious. Toriel can give them closure by forgiving and reassuring them. Asgore can commiserate with them about the blood and dust on their hands. Sans can assuage their guilt by judging them. Even Papyrus can distract them by being totally unrelated to their past. But Flowey can’t do anything for Chara anymore, because he already told them Asriel is dead, and they made it clear make-believe won’t cut it.

“Flowey” can’t be what they need.

Because he’s not “Asriel.”

Dew beads at the corners of his eyes. _Darn it, darn it, darn it, darn it... I should’ve lied! I should’ve pretended! I have his memories. I could’ve faked it! Why didn’t I?_ His head hangs. _No, they would’ve seen right through me. I’ll never be the “real” Asriel. Not so long as I don’t have... a... SOUL..._

And then it clicks.

What was it the otherworlder had said? That his last chance to take the human SOULs is coming up?

What if he _did_ get those SOULs?

What if he used their power to get more and more until he _could_ have a SOUL of his own? Once he had enough, he could be himself again... right? Flowey’s mind races. He might need every single SOUL in the Underground to manage it, but that’s not a problem. The only company he wants is Chara’s and Frisk’s. And if he could have them both all to himself--if he could seize control of the timeline--then he’d never lose them or have to share them ever again, would he?

It’s tempting. It’s _so_ tempting.

But is it wise?

“Hey, otherworlder,” he whispers.

His shadow, barely visible thanks to faint light peeking down through the cracks in the floorboards, sprouts a scarlet eye and matching grin. Though he can barely hear himself over the commotion above his head, a voice emanating from it promptly replies, You Rang?

He shouldn’t be surprised. He _isn’t_ surprised. She was probably waiting all this time for him to call her. _Something we have in common,_ Flowey muses before shaking the treacherous thought away. They have _nothing_ in common. She’s NOTHING like him.

“You didn’t answer my question from earlier,” he says. “Let’s say I follow your advice about grabbing the human SOULs. What do you get out of it?”

Technically You Didn’t Ask That, But Let’s Not Be Overly Facetious. What Do I Get? Satisfaction. Theoretically, Anyway.

He frowns. “Satisfaction how?”

Hmm, Well. You Say Asriel Is Dead. But Is That Really True?

The non-sequitur throws him. “What?”

Didn’t You Just Convince Yourself Of That Because It’s Less Painful That Way?

He gawks at her. Then he bristles. “ _Excuse_ me? I happen to know me better than you do, pal,” Flowey hisses. “I’m a vessel for Asriel’s memories. That’s it!”

You ARE Your Memories, Though. A Person’s Behavior, Desires, Flaws, Everything--All Of These Things Take Shape From What One Has Experienced. Losing Chara, Losing Your SOUL, And Becoming A Flower Were Major Traumas That Impacted Your Personality, To Be Sure, But That Doesn’t Mean You Stopped Being You.

He gapes, momentarily flabbergasted. Before he can gather his thoughts and spit out a barb, she adds, But That’s Just My Opinion.

“It’s a stupid opinion,” is the first thing that pops into mind and out of his mouth. “And what’s that got to do with your ‘satisfaction,’ anyway?”

What, You Don’t Get It? Haven’t You Ever Spent A Timeline Testing Things Out Just To See If Your Character Theories Are Correct?

...He has. He spent quite a few of those on Papyrus, in fact. It took him a long time to get bored of him... but eventually, he did. He decides to ignore that. “And your character theory is that I’m _not_ a vessel, that I plain _am_ Asriel?”

Yup.

Intriguing. Flowey sets aside his irritation at her insistence that she knows him better than he does to ponder it. When things started out, he _was_ very similar to Asriel. He tried to help people out--solve their worthless problems, listen to their inane worries. But who he is now is pretty distant from who he used to be. That weenie Asriel _died_ refusing to kill people. And how many dust bowls has Flowey bathed in? Sure, okay, it wasn’t an overnight thing, he can trace a natural progression between Point A and Point B, but... “I’m too different,” he concludes. “I’ve changed too much.”

And You Don’t Think You’ve Changed Again Since Meeting Frisk And Reuniting With Chara? You Used To Be A Lot Quicker To Call People Out, For Example.

“What, you mean like how you’re only here to distract yourself from your total lack of friends?” he snaps. “Or how you’re obviously only approaching me because Frisk and Chara won’t put up with you anymore?”

Right, Exactly Like That! Or That Time You Said To Chara That At Least You’re Both Willing To Kill Everyone Yourselves, Which Is Better Than The People Who Are Curious About What Happens But Won’t Do The Deed Themselves. The First Time I Saw That, I Laughed And Said, “Yup, That’s Right. You Sure Pegged Me, Flowey.”

...That’s a weird thing to say. He files it away under “Potentially Important” and says, “So, what, now you want to watch me kill everyone all over again?”

Now I Want To _Help_ You Kill Everyone All Over Again. What Do You Say? Partners?

He barks out a laugh. “Partners? Me? And _you_?”

Sure. We Both Want The Same Thing: For You To Be Asriel.

“Frisk and Chara would _hate_ that. What’s the point in me being ‘me’ again if I can only do it by teaming up with scum like you?”

Maybe You _Should_ Do Something They Hate. Aren’t They Doing The Same To You?

That stings a lot worse than he would’ve expected. “They’re not trying to...”

Let’s Be Real, Flowey: That Doesn’t Matter To You. You’re Hurt All The Same. You Called Me Because You Want To Be Convinced. Isn’t That Right?

He laughs, a sound somewhere between mocking and self-deprecating. That’s true. Darn it, that’s true. Golly! She sure has him pegged.

And just like that, it dawns on him: she isn’t nothing like him.

She’s nothing, like him.

“No wonder you’re a friendless loser,” he mumbles, head hanging.

Haha. For The Record, I Have Friends. I Just Have No Faith In Friendship Anymore.

He narrows his eyes at her, a tight smile fixed on his face. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

That’s A Long And Boring And, Above All, Irrelevant Story. The Point Is, Even After All That, I’m Still Me. So Therefore, You Too Are Still You.

“You’re seriously pathetic. You know that?”

I Do Know That. I’m Also Thoughtless, Two-Faced, And Hypocritical. So Are We Doing This Or Not?

“...You know,” he says, “I don’t like you. I don’t like you at all. And I hate you being anything like me, when the two people I actually care about hate your guts. But I have to admit: your honesty is refreshing.”

That’s Fine By Me. I Came Here Aiming To Do The Wrong Thing, After All.

He glances to one side. Aiming to do the wrong thing, huh. Going along with her is the wrong thing to do; he knows that. But if he can be Asriel again for Chara, and contain the otherworlder for Frisk--if the wrong thing ends up with a right result--then don’t the ends justify the means?

“Okay,” he agrees, making his decision. “Let’s go.”


	37. It Gave Me A Small Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -Player- continues.

Tap. Tap. Tap. ...Tap. Tap. ...Tap. Tap Tap Tap. ...Tap. Frisk’s eyelids twitch at each irregular noise sounding on the window over their sleeping place on the couch. It had woken them up maybe five minutes ago, and at first they’d assumed it was melting ice dripping onto the windowsill, so they’d rolled back over to ignore it. It’d grown steadily more insistent since then. That would have been fine too; it had a nice rhythm, and they could have slept to that. Now it’s slightly off, in never quite the same way twice. The throttled anticipation is killing them.

At last, they give up and throw the blanket they’d borrowed from Papyrus off, grab the back of the lumpy couch, and pull themself upright. It’s still fairly dark out, and they squint through the window to try to see what’s making that incredibly annoying sound.

It turns out it’s bullets. Little, tiny, seed-shaped bullets, not big or strong enough to crack the window, but capable of making an impact all the same. Three more tap on the glass, then stop. Knowing already what they’ll see, Frisk visually traces their trajectory back to its source.

Naturally, it’s Flowey.

When their eyes meet, Flowey gives them a bright smile and waves a leaf. They smile weakly and wave back, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

_Chara?_ they call sleepily. _You awake?_

Their companion stirs in their mind. Bright red flickers like a little candle flame. _I am now. What’s up?_

_Me. And you. And Flowey, looks like._ Frisk holds up a ‘wait one minute’ finger for him, then slides off the couch, yawning again. _I wonder what he wants?_

_Let’s go see._

They’re wearing just an oversized T-shirt as a nightgown. At Chara’s suggestion, they grab Sans’s coat from the back of one of the dining table chairs, where he’d left it last night and had never bothered to put away like Papyrus had insisted at least five times. He won’t mind them borrowing it, they’re sure. Plus they won’t be outside long, they figure. They shrug it on, push their feet into their shoes, and creep out the door.

Flowey’s still there, waiting patiently at the bottom of the porch steps. They trundle down to the bottom step, shivering in the chilly air, and pull Sans’s coat tight as they squat down in front of him.

“Morning, Frisk!” he chirps. “Didja have a fun sleepover?”

They smile and nod.

“Great! It’s gonna be a big day today. Are you nervous?”

They shake their head.

“Golly! Why not?”

“Because I’m sure everything will turn out okay,” they reply. At Chara’s prompting, they add, “Is everything okay with _you_?”

“What? Of course it is! Why would you ask?”

“Chara thinks you’re acting kind of unnatural.”

Flowey goes silent at that.

Frisk, starting to get a little worried, adds, “Actually, I agree. Are you mad at us? We did tell Toriel the truth, but it turned out fine. And we didn’t tell her about you, promise!”

“No. I believe you,” he replies. “Sorry; I was trying to ease into the point. I’ll just get right to it. You’re facing Asgore again today, right?”

They nod.

“I wanted to warn you to be careful. Your SOUL already popped out once. If it comes down to a fight, well... who knows how easily it could slide out again?”

That’s true. Frisk hadn’t considered that. It’s a sobering thought. “I will be. Thanks for worrying about me, Flowey.”

He smiles. “You’re important to me, after all. I don’t want you dying on me.” He pauses. “...Hey, Frisk. Let me ask you something.”

They tilt their head. “Hm?”

“You said before you don’t mind if I can’t love you back, but... let’s be real. You’d like me better if I could, wouldn’t you?”

Their nose scrunches up, and they scratch their head. That was sudden. How do they respond to a question like this? “I don’t know... I guess? It would be nice. It’s really sad to not be able to feel love. But it’s okay,” they reassure him. “I like you fine the way you are.”

His smile turns bittersweet, and his eyebrows (such as they are) turn up and pull together at the middle. “...Heh... That’s such a ‘you’ thing to say.”

“Well, it’s true.”

His smile turns bright again. “You really have no standards at all, Frisk.”

Frisk frowns. Maybe, but the way he says it rubs them the wrong way.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he adds. “I like you the way you are too. That’s why...” He trails off. Then he glances away. “Actually, never mind.”

They tilt their head again, confused. What _is_ this all about?

“Anyway,” he continues, “can I ask Chara something real quick, too?”

Frisk turns their thoughts in. _Well?_

_Let me talk to him face-to-face. You both deserve that much._

Which is both heartening and discouraging to hear. Nonetheless, Frisk nods and tags out, and Chara purses their lips at Flowey. He stares back at them.

“...Be honest,” he says. “You’d like me better if I were Asriel. Right?”

Chara digs their nails into their knees for a second. It’s still enough to leave welts when they pull their fingers away. “That’s a pointless question. You aren’t,” they reply, brusque. “Both of us are just going to have to live with it.”

He actually looks stung by that. “Haha... Wow... As blunt as ever, Chara.” He glances away again. “I don’t know what I expected.”

_Sorry, did I hurt your feelings?_ But Chara bites that remark back. It’d sound sarcastic, coming from them. It might even be sarcastic. Better not. “What did you want me to say?”

“Mm. I guess after what I told you yesterday, I deserve the cold truth,” he admits.

Chara bows their head; their bangs hide their eyes from view. “...To be honest, I don’t understand why you don’t hate me,” they murmur. “You, Flowey, exist because I ruined Asriel’s life. Isn’t that cause enough to resent me?”

“Golly, Chara. For someone so smart, you sure can be dumb. I told you before, Asriel loved you THAT much.” His face falls. “I couldn’t ever hate you.”

When they look up at him, their eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “That’ll have to be good enough, then.” They rub their face with the heel of their palm.

Flowey watches them for a few seconds, then affects a new smile. “Hey. I want to do something for you two. How about I help you out with Asgore?”

Chara wipes their face again, then regards him. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we _did_ ignore him after he called for you. He might assume it’s because you weren’t there after all, like I did,” he replies. “It could save us all a lot of grief if I popped over and explained the situation. Just the basics, to make sure he’s willing to talk. If you’re lucky, maybe you two can avoid a fight entirely and focus on staying here or breaking the barrier or whatever it is you want to do.”

“That... that would help a lot, actually. Thank you, Flowey.”

“Anything for you, Chara!”

They smile slightly. Then they lean down, pushing their hair out of the way, to press a gentle kiss on top of Flowey’s head. “Thank you,” they echo, voice low.

His face is blank, if somewhat pinker than usual, when they pull away. Then he smiles, fond and sad, or at least the memory of it. “Anything for you,” he echoes back. His smile brightens like the gleaming snow. “Anyway, I’d better get going. See you both later!”

Chara nods, then lets Frisk switch back in to wave good-bye.

\---

Another few hours pass peacefully on the couch, after which Frisk is once again pulled from sleep, this time by Toriel knocking on the front door with trowel and pie and other goodies in tow. It turns out that Papyrus did indeed tip-toe out early in the morning to head on his rounds (impressing both Frisk and Chara; he’s not exactly a quiet person), because in the middle of breakfast, he returns and is delighted to see everyone, even Sans, up already. He joins them all for a steaming plate of Toriel’s snail casserole, then offers to escort Toriel and Frisk to New Home as part of his rounds. When Sans points out that technically he’s only supposed to make rounds in Snowdin since he technically isn’t a royal guard yet, Papyrus yells at him to be quiet.

When breakfast is over, Toriel presents Chara with their new trowel. They light up to see it, and hold it up to admire it from all angles. The handle is the same as before, but the scooping, triangular blade is now fully dull: it’s meant for nurturing life, not dealing death. They tuck it away and give Toriel a tight hug, and Papyrus swears up and down afterwards that he didn’t get at all teary.

Ultimately, the crew agrees that Sans will check on if any humans have fallen into the Ruins, and Papyrus will see Frisk and Toriel (and Chara) to the Riverperson. Undyne has been staying with Alphys at her lab ever since the DT-melted monsters went home, so she can keep an eye out for them if need be once they get to Hotland.

(Toriel asks at this point, with no small amount of alarm, what Papyrus means by “DT-melted monsters.” Papyrus responds by, after they all leave his house, introducing her to Snowy’s mother. Toriel’s pace picks up a certain aggression after that point.)

When the two reach MTT Resort, several monsters mob Frisk, which almost sends Toriel into a literally flaming fury until they both realize that the monsters are gushing about their appearance on Live Love! and their escape from the King.

Apparently, Asgore had made a heartfelt inquiry of the restauranteers on if they truly did not want this human to die for their freedom, and when no one denied it, he stated he would respect the wishes of his people first and foremost and returned to New Home. Frisk knew from Papyrus, who heard from Alphys, about most of this, but this is their first time hearing about the “respect the wishes of his people” part. Hope springs within them, bolstering their already considerable determination. They’d worried that running away had made things worse, but it looks like it might turn out for the best after all.

Once the crowd disperses, Frisk and Toriel have a seat on the other side of the fountain (Toriel looks thoroughly unamused by the statue of MTT in the center, especially at the way it spews water anywhere but inside the fountain).

“Maybe I should go alone,” Frisk says.

“I do not know that that is wise,” Toriel replies, frowning fretfully. “Statements such as ‘I will respect the wishes of the people’ are vague for a reason: he may mean that he will respect the monsters here who were so fond of you, or he may respect the wish of the populace to return to the surface. It is a common political trick.”

“Do you really think Asgore is a tricky sort of monster?” Frisk wonders.

Toriel opens her mouth, shuts it. She rests a paw on her mouth. “No,” she admits.

Chara, inside, requests use of their mouth; Frisk allows it, and Chara says, “If Asgore’s in the middle of a change of heart, it might be best if I talk to him first. Then we can bring you in a little later to seal the deal--maybe set him on fire a little if things go south.” They grin a bit, a familiar mischievous sparkle in their eyes. “Just the thing from his old _flame_.”

Toriel bursts out laughing. When she calms, she moves her hand to her chin. “There is some merit in your idea.” Her smile fades. “But... you know how I worry. Cell reception is unreliable at best near the Core... If you need help, you will likely be unable to call me for it.”

Chara frowns. “That’s true... I guess we could ask Flowey for help. He said he wanted to help, so he was going to talk to Asgore, let him know that we’re coming. He could watch, and if things go sour, come get you.”

“My goodness! I had no idea he was doing such a thing. That does help put my mind at ease.” Toriel looks around. “But... where is he now?”

“HOWDY!” Flowey shouts cheerfully from Toriel’s other side.

She yelps and nearly falls directly into the fountain; Frisk grabs her hand, letting her regain her balance, just in time.

Seemingly delighted, he giggles. “You called for me, and so I appear! Everyone’s favorite family-friendly flora: Flowey the Flowerrr!” he trills, winking and sticking out his tongue.

“My word, you gave me a turn!” she utters, clutching her chest. “I had not realized you were here already!”

“Golly! Did I scare ya? I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” he chirps sunnily.

“Oh, well, that is all right,” Toriel reassures him while Chara mouths YOU BALD-FACED LIAR as hard as they can behind her back. When she turns to them, they fix a smile at her. “This makes things much simpler, do you not think?”

“Right,” Chara replies. They flick their eyes down at Flowey, who beams at them. “...How did the talk with Asgore go?”

“Great!” he chirps. “He was real understanding! I think it’ll go perfectly!”

Chara feels relief and excitement course through them via Frisk, and they smile faintly, then step back to let Frisk front.

Frisk, now in control, beams right back. “Thank you so much, Flowey! You’re the best!”

“Aw, shucks! Aren’t I, though?” he declares. “Don’t worry! I’ll keep an eye on you, and come running for your ‘mom’ here when I have to!”

“Then it seems we have a plan,” Toriel says, smiling. “I feel much better about this now. Please, stay safe, Frisk--Chara.”

Frisk nods vigorously. Chara, for some reason, is uneasy, but they keep their concerns to themself for the moment. After waving to the two, they depart. The layout of the Core is familiar to them now, and it takes little time for them to make their way through.

On the elevator ride up, Chara finally remarks, _Déjà vu all over again, huh?_

_We finally became friends for real the last time we rode this up, huh?_ Frisk reminisces. _You told me about your past, and I told you about mine._

_Haha. You read my mind._ They pause. _Can you tell what I’m thinking about now?_

_Are you worried about Asgore?_

_Sort of. I’m not so much worried about him as... Flowey._

_Why? What’s the matter?_

_I don’t know... It’s just a feeling I have. He seems kind of... off._

_Isn’t that just because he’s excited to help us?_

_...Maybe you’re right._

Frisk pauses. _If you think there’s a problem, we could turn back and double-check,_ they suggest. _Now that you mention it, he did seem a little odd to me, too._

For a moment, they feel conflicted via Chara. _He... he said he wanted to help. And I wouldn’t say everything’s okay now, but we’ve all made up. We can trust him, right?_

_I want to trust him,_ Frisk replies.

They consider this. Then they laugh a little. _Well, I trust you more than I trust myself. Your way has gone fine for us so far. Let’s keep at it._

The final hall, lit through the stained glass, is empty. Of course; Sans has already judged them for this timeline. He’s probably back in the Ruins right now. It’s a curious feeling for Frisk, though, and especially for Chara, who remembers walking down it far more times.

Asgore awaits them on the other side of the doors, seated on his throne. A small table is set in front of him, and opposite it, an even smaller chair. Frisk slowly walks up. Teacups and saucers are set on either side of the table, and in between them, a colorful teapot, steam drifting lazily from its spout. From the smell alone, Chara can tell them it’s full of golden flower tea. A box of sugar, sporting a long silver spoon, stands next to Asgore’s left paw.

He looks up with a nervous smile. “Howdy!” he greets them, friendly but somewhat stiff. “It has been a long time, has it not? I am glad you sent your friend Flowey ahead; after the first few days, I thought you had decided not to return.”

“Sorry,” Frisk replies automatically, slipping into their chair.

“Please, do not be. There are few who would want to fight to the death.” He clears his throat. “Now, it is my pleasure to ask... would you like a cup of tea?”

Frisk smiles back. “Yes, please.”

His shoulders relax a little. With care, he pours each of them a cup of tea, and stirs in two spoonfuls of sugar each, though he waits until Frisk nods him on to do theirs. They watch him prepare their refreshments, and Chara’s feelings give them a lump in their throat. When Asgore finishes, they pick up their teacup with their own hands; when they take a sip, they share taste buds with their companion.

The tears that well up and overflow, however, are all Chara’s.

Asgore leans forward, expression fretful. “What is the matter? Is it not to your liking?”

“No. It’s delicious,” they croak. They smile up at him, blinking more tears down their face. “It’s just like how you always used to make it, Mr. Dad Guy.”

Concern melts into a soft sort of agony, and Asgore sets the entire table and its contents aside to fall from his throne to one knee and embrace them. Chara abandons their teacup to the arm of their chair and wraps their arms around his neck.

“So it _was_ you,” Asgore rumbles.

Chara buries their face in his shirt and tightens their grip.

An eternity passes before Asgore clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming back. After what I have done, you must have been afraid of me.”

“No...” Chara murmurs. “It wasn’t that. There’s just so much you don’t know...”

“What do you mean?”

They pause. They think of Asgore’s journal entries, always the same happy lie. They wonder how many of his illusions they’ll dash with the truth. They take a deep breath.

And the truth follows: how they share Frisk’s body, the way they awakened in them in the old Ruins; how they’d unintentionally poisoned him as a prank, the suicidal plan that followed, their intent to wipe out their old village to gain the SOULs to break the barrier, and Asriel’s involvement in their plan. Partway through, Asgore pulls away to gape at them in open shock, but he never once interrupts. Having told Toriel the same story, having received her forgiveness, doesn’t make it any easier; at Frisk’s insistence, they give them their arms back, and Frisk promptly holds them for reassurance. Were the topic not so serious, Chara would laugh at being hugged by a different person in the same body. At least it makes them feel a little less wretched.

“...and that’s why I’ve come back,” they conclude quietly. “Your life and the lives all monsters became twisted because of my mistakes. It’s my responsibility to set things right, if I can. I can’t let Frisk suffer the entire burden.”

Asgore smiles, but it’s a mournful gesture. “The look of hope you once had in your eyes... So it was because you were able to escape the humans from the surface.” He hunches over, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What a fool I was, to never realize. And to think I had pressured you to lead us back to them... I’ve done you a great injustice, Chara.”

“No... I was broken from the start. I was the one who tricked you into thinking I was a decent person,” they mumble, glancing away.

A rueful chuckle rumbles in Asgore’s chest. “You are ‘broken,’ yet you are capable of deceiving a fully grown monster? You have an impressively eclectic set of skills.”

Chara feels themself redden. Thinking back, Sans had criticized them for trying to take on all the blame, too--called them egotistical for it. Nonetheless... “I _did_ trick Ree,” they insist hoarsely. “He’s dead because of me.”

A low, mournful noise sounds deep in Asgore’s chest. “Chara. Do you think Asriel would blame you for his death?”

They glance away. They know the answer to this for a fact: “No.”

“I agree.” Asgore gives them a weak smile. “I am certain he still loves you.”

How much hotter can their face get? Chara’s a little annoyed with themself even as they stammer, “H-how can you know?”

“To answer that, I must ask you a question in kind.” His smile fades into a sad solemnity. “That little flower with whom you had your date. Is he... Asriel?”

Shock skewers Chara as thoroughly as if Asgore had run them through with his trident. A faint breeze stirs the golden flowers carpeting the floor. They resist the urge to look around for Flowey--not that they noticed him when they first came in. If he’s here, he’s done a good job hiding a tree in a forest, as it were.

They square their shoulders, but their gaze only goes as high as the king’s beard. “I asked him the same thing, afterwards,” they murmur. “He said no.”

“I see.” Asgore swallows hard. Then, elbows on his knees, he folds his hands and rests his face on top of them, hiding his eyes from view. “I see.”

The zephyr feathers through petals, hair, and fur, and the flowers stir again. It sounds like a murmuring crowd, passing judgment. ...Maybe it’s just their imagination.

“I’m sorry,” they whisper.

“No... I made that assumption on my own. And there is no helping what has passed.” Asgore lowers his claws. “I still believe he would not blame you.”

Weirdly, it helps to know that he’s right. Chara chances a glance around. Did they catch a glimpse of a face among the blossoms? “Why... what made you think Flowey might be Asriel?”

“The way he looked at you when you emerged during that date. The way you looked back at him. For a moment, I felt like I was watching you and Asriel again, happily together.” His smile returns, melancholy in tow. “It gave me a small shock.”

Chara’s chest squeezes hard, and their eyes begin to sting. Rather than reply, they hang their head.

Asgore’s arms envelope them and coax them into his chest. They lean against him, seeking warmth and comfort, as he strokes their hair. “I know how it feels to wish so desperately to have someone back that, for a time, it feels as though they actually are,” he murmurs. “And I know also how crushing it is to return to a reality without them.”

They dig their fingers into his fur. “I’m sorry,” they whisper again.

“I am sorry, too. I have been a poor caretaker to you. So... please, do not feel guilty. What happened between Tori and me was the result of our own personalities clashing, and what happened with you and Asriel would not have occurred had we been more attentive.”

“Toriel said that, too,” they mumble into his fur.

“She is a wise woman. You should listen to her,” he says affectionately. “Much as I should have, many years ago.”

Chara pulls away slowly and looks up at him. “Then, about the other humans...”

“I deeply regret what I have done. I found no joy in murdering children. How could I? Whatever good was meant to come from it, it is still paedocide.” He sags where he sits. “I did what I thought I must to bring hope back to my people, for we cannot survive without it. But declaring war on humanity means that once the barrier is broken, we must fight--and there is no way we can win.” He hangs his head. “Gerson and I both knew this truth. He advised me against this as well in the beginning. In my foolishness, I did not listen to him, either. Now blood forever stains my hands. I have no desire to kill your friend, but to spare them means the children before died in vain. Yet if I kill them, I also kill one who has begun to give hope back to my people. No matter what, I am trapped with no way out.”

Frisk tugs on Chara’s consciousness. They listen, then say, “Um--Mr. Dad?”

“Yes, Chara?”

“Frisk wants to talk to you about that. Are you okay?”

He straightens, blinking in surprise. “I--yes.” He offers a weak, wan smile. “I apologize. It was most unseemly for me to bellyache; you both must have been most uncomfortable.”

Chara shakes their head. “No... I’m glad I could talk to you again.” They pause. “Um, anyway, here’s Frisk.”

A blink later, and the child slouches a little, head tilted to one side, eyes squinty. “Hi, Mr. King Asgore.”

Asgore smiles nervously. “Hello, Frisk. Please let me apologize to you as well.”

They shake their head. “It’s OK. Um, what you were saying about the war on the humans... Could you decide to cancel it? If you and the other monsters go to the surface, I don’t think the humans will attack you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The war you had was a really long time ago, wasn’t it? I never heard about it until I came here. I don’t think humans still remember it. Anybody who was alive back then is dead now, so I don’t think they’d still have the same problem they did back then.”

Chara stirs in their mind, wordlessly disagreeing in blood-red silence. Still, by the same token, they don’t try to argue the point. Frisk picks their teacup again and takes another sip. It’s still warm, mercifully. They pull a longer drink and let Chara savor it.

“That is true... You humans are startlingly short-lived,” Asgore muses. “But even if you are right, there is still the problem of the barrier itself. Your friend Flowey mentioned you had an interest in helping set us monsters free, but... I do not see how that is possible without taking your SOUL. We _could_ wait until you have passed on naturally, but that would mean you personally would never see the surface again.”

_Your SOUL already popped out once. Who knows how easily it could slide out again?_

Frisk’s eyes fly open. “Oh!!” Why hadn’t they thought of this before? It’s the perfect plan! It’s risky, sure, but if it works... “I have an idea, actually!”

_Frisk?_ Chara says warily.

When Asgore asks them what they mean, Frisk gives him a quick explanation of how their SOUL left their body recently, leaving Chara the sole controlling force within, and how while their body hadn’t lasted very long after that, it at least lasted the better part of a day and made a full recovery with time and healing magic. They also explain how their SOUL had successfully returned to their body afterwards. In short, it’s possible that Asgore could take their SOUL temporarily, then return it after breaking the barrier with it and the other six SOULs.

His expression is somewhere between dubious and intrigued. “I hadn’t thought it possible to return a SOUL to a body after removing it,” he says. “But if what you say is true, young one...”

“We’ve done it before,” Frisk says. “I think if we’re all careful, we could do it again.”

But Chara protests within them, and a little confused, Frisk gives way to let them say their piece.

“I disagree,” is the first thing out of Chara’s mouth. “Just because we’ve done it before doesn’t mean it’ll go well this time.”

“That is true, too. As powerful as human SOULs are, they are hardly invulnerable,” Asgore admits.

Frisk taps in, and Chara steps aside to let them speak: “At the same time, I think this is the best chance we have to save everyone without sacrificing anyone. And I trust Chara, and... well, they trust you,” they conclude, knowing it sounds a little lame.

“Are you not afraid, young one?” Asgore wonders.

“I...” They look down to see their hands, trembling. It’s a little too late to hide these, they guess. “I am. I don’t want to die. I want to live on with my friends. But I also want my friends to be happy. That’s worth the risk, isn’t it?”

_It’s more than risky,_ Chara argues, this time solely on the inside. _We haven’t seen a SAVE point since the Player left. If it goes wrong, we could lose all our progress. You might even die for real! Do you really want to do that to Sans and everyone?_

“I believe I understand what you mean. Your personal well-being is worth sacrificing if it brings hope to the people,” Asgore replies. “That is my philosophy as well. But... is this truly what is best for everyone?” A beat. “As odd as this may sound, I urge you to think it over before you commit, Frisk. There are some things you cannot undo.”

Frisk falls silent.

“Take your time,” he adds gently, then falls silent as well to drink his tea.

Frisk picks up their teacup as well, but rather than drink, they stare down at their murky reflection. _Am... am I doing the right thing, Chara? Or am I being stupid?_

To their surprise, Chara hesitates. _I..._ Then they take a deep breath. _No, you’re not stupid. I think what you’re trying to do is noble. I don’t want you to stop trying to do the right thing even when it’s hard or dangerous--that’s part of who you are, and I admire that about you. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll lose you all over again._

_Chara... I’m sorry. I didn’t think of how you felt._

_You don’t have to apologize! I ignored Ree’s feelings, so it’s what I get. I just--I don’t know, Frisk. I don’t know_ what _the right thing is. I’ve screwed up so much. When I killed myself, I died believing I was doing the right thing, but I ended up hurting the people I loved. I don’t want you to suffer from the same mistakes I made._

Frisk touches their chest with one hand. _If it makes you that unhappy, then I won’t do it._

_But I don’t want you to stop just because of my selfishness!_

_I just want everyone to be happy. That includes you._

Chara pauses. _Frisk... You’d give your life up for that, wouldn’t you? You always put yourself last. That scares me most of all._

Frisk doesn’t respond. They’ve been together for so long, Chara knows them well.

After a moment, subdued, Chara wonders, _Frisk, what do you want? What do you want for YOU? What will make YOU happy?_

_...I want a nice warm home where I’m surrounded by people who love me no matter what._

_Do you really need to break the barrier to get that?_

_I... no. You’re right. But I_ can’t _think about just myself. All the monsters have their own lives, their own hopes and dreams. They’re all yearning for the surface. How can I refuse to help them just so I can get what_ I _want?_

_Then why not live out your life down here, and will your SOUL to Asgore when you die naturally? He suggested it himself. For monsters, another few decades won’t hurt, especially when they_ know _they’ll be free once you die._

_But is it really okay to make them wait so long when I could do something to help_ now _? You said another few decades won’t hurt, but we don’t know that for sure. For all we know, there are monsters on the verge of falling down right now, and learning they’ve got to wait even longer might push them over the edge._

_Then to hell with them! Any monster who wants you to die so they can live isn’t worthy of the name!_

Frisk’s mental voice sharpens: _Chara! Don’t you dare say that!_

Shock rubber-bands through Chara. When the tension crumbles, they fade into tear blue chastisement. _Frisk... I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t have the right to decide who lives and who dies._ They laugh humorlessly. _Here I said I’d support you, but right now I’m just dragging you down. I know you said before you wanted to return to the surface; I just ignored it. But you have better judgment than I do, and it’s true you’ve survived having your body and SOUL separated before. Just because I’m scared, that doesn’t give me the right to try to control you._

_Thanks, Chara. I’m sorry too for snapping at you. And you’re not dragging me down! I’m happy you care about me. I just..._ They pause, revelation dawning. _What I REALLY want... is for us to stay together. You and me, and Flowey, and everyone. So, um... can you do something for me?_

_What is it?_

_I’m not good at being selfish. So can... can I ask you to be selfish for me?_

They pause. Then they start to laugh again, this time with affection. _You nerd. You dork. You total goober._ They laugh some more, then wrap Frisk up in fragrant layers of strawberry red love. _Asking someone else to be selfish_ for _you? How does that even work?_

_Oh, um, I’m sor--_

_I’ll do it._

_\--ry--huh? Chara?_

_If being selfish for you means keeping you alive and safe, I’ll do it. Looking back, I should’ve let Ree do that for me. And when you’re ready to be selfish for yourself, let me know and I’ll back off._

Frisk glows, all but hugging themself. _Okay. Thank you for looking out for me, Chara._

_I’m just being selfish. I don’t want you going anywhere._

_I don’t want to go anywhere without you, so we’re even._

_Hehe. Then let’s do this..._

After another moment, Frisk lifts their head and regards Asgore. “Um, Your Majesty?”

He blinks down at them. “Hm? And please, call me Asgore, if you like.”

“Okay. Um... We talked about it, and we’ll do it.”

He smiles sadly. “Frisk... You would trust me with your very SOUL?”

They nod. “But Chara has a request first, and so do I.”

“What is it?”

Their shoulders straighten, and Chara sets down the teacup. “I’m worried about Frisk,” they say. “But I know how important this is for everyone. So I’ll work with you both to make it succeed--but if I think something’s going wrong and I say to stop, I want you both to stop immediately. Okay?”

“That is very reasonable,” Asgore agrees.

Frisk emerges to nod again. “I’m okay with that too. And, um, for my request...” They meet his gaze. “You’re not allowed to die, either.” The dusty second timeline had been borne from the despair of the end of the first. They know Chara remembers Asgore’s suicide well. “So don’t. I refuse to take your SOUL. Okay?”

_Frisk..._

Asgore bows his head, a faint smile on his lips. “...Very well, Frisk. I accept your and Chara’s terms,” he says. He rises to his feet, and offers them a massive paw. “Now, let us try.”

With a deep and slightly shaky breath, Frisk squares their shoulders and accepts it. As hard as their heart is pounding, their fear is no match for their determination.

\---

“He did _what_?” Toriel demands, fists trembling.

“He’s dragging Frisk over to the barrier by the hand! I saw it with my own two eyes!” Flowey simpers. “You’ve got to go save them before he takes their SOUL!”

He’s barely finished his sentence when Toriel has taken off for the Core. Flowey watches her go. His shadow is unusually deep, as if someone who stepped on it would fall into the void.

“Golly. She barely needed any pushing at all,” he remarks to the air. He smiles, eyes narrowed. “Good thing we already got the rest of the chumps in motion.”

\---

“WHAT?! They’re gonna fight?! No way!” Undyne yells into Alphys’s phone.

“I KNOW!! I said the same thing!! But Flowey said His Majesty wouldn’t listen!” Papyrus yells back. “We’ve got to go stop them before someone gets hurt!!!”

Alphys cringes, caught between the two loudest monsters in the Underground, but leans forward anyway. “U-um, are you sure about this, Papyrus?” she says into her cell phone, which Undyne clutches despite being in her own hand.

“Very sure!! Flowey wouldn’t lie! He’s Frisk’s boyfriend, after all!”

“T-true. A-and better safe than sorry,” Alphys admits. Mettaton’s special was awfully clear about that, and they have a lot of history together. She squashes her bad feeling and adds, “I-I’ll give Mettaton a text on the way. I bet he can round up the monsters. If everyone comes and s-says they want him to spare Frisk, th-then Asgore will definitely listen!”

“HELL YEAH! We’ll stop this fight yet!” Undyne crows, picking Alphys up by the waist and holding her under one arm. “Race you there, Papyrus! First one gets to be Frisk’s _and_ Asgore’s official bestie!!!”

“YOU’RE ON!!” Papyrus shouts back.

\---

Hands in his jacket pockets, Sans takes a few minutes to relax near the patch of flowers that serves as Chara’s grave marker. There weren’t any humans, so instead, he can sate his curiosity on something. Toriel had mentioned that the ground seemed more sunken than usual during their last visit. While Sans hadn’t really noticed at the time, it does seem like something worth double-checking. Discreetly.

But a flower patch is a flower patch. He nudges the earth with one slippered foot. Seems normal en--

“What?” he utters, jerking his head up.

Hands gesticulate at the edges of his vision, like seeing something that isn’t there when one turns around. He turns, and it vanishes; he turns again, and it creeps up again, signing warnings of danger.

He looks down. The hands appear over the patch. He knows what these hands are, and if he can see them at all, that means there’s some kind of reality distortion here letting them seep through. And the only thing he knows of that’s capable of causing that is...

His left eye flares blue as he looks down at the grave. He knows in his bones he won’t find what’s supposed to be here, and when he checks, he finds he’s right: no bones about it.

“Thanks, Gaster,” he murmurs. “Message received.”

He turns and takes a shortcut to New Home, leaving the darkness behind.

\---

“Are you ready, Frisk?” Asgore asks, turning to face them. The twilit barrier pulses around them, sweeping with monochrome power.

Frisk answers by calling forth their SOUL, a little red light between their two hands.

_Something’s wrong,_ Chara says suddenly. _Something feels off._

_What is it?_

Asgore takes a deep breath. Three on one side, three on the other, the tubes containing the other human SOULs surface in a line around him. “Well then... Please brace yourself. I fear this may be painful.”

_I... I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe I’m being paranoid._

_Should we stop?_

Chara doesn’t say yes, though they remain unsettled. Frisk waits a moment for an answer. When they don’t get one, they hold out their SOUL. Asgore reaches for it, but his paw stills just before claiming it.

“If... anything goes wrong,” he rumbles, meeting Frisk’s questioning stare, “I wish you to know you have my gratitude... and my deepest apologies.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” they reply, steely. “We’ll make sure of it.”

“Yes... You are right. Chara and I both owe that to you.” He nods once, as if to convince himself. “Very well--”

They squeeze their eyes shut.

So they don’t see it when the fireball strikes Asgore, knocking him away from them and the SOULs.

“ASGORE DREEMURR!!” Toriel roars, storming into the barrier room and positioning herself between him and Frisk. “How dare you deceive this child! Had you planned on stealing their SOUL the entire time?!”

“Tori!” he gasps from where he’s fallen. Despite the less-than-friendly hello, a genuine smile lights up his face. “You came back!”

“I did not come for YOU!”

“But... but you came!”

She settles a bit. “Of course,” she says stiffly. “As despicable a creature as you may be, even you do not deserve to die. And it would be wrong of me to allow Frisk to be forced into a horrible choice.” She turns to them then, eyes gentle and worried. “Speaking of which, are you all right, my child? Are you unhurt?”

Frisk laughs. They can’t help it; all that tension, and she cut through it so suddenly. “I’m fine,” they reply, letting their SOUL settle back inside themself. “But it’s not what you think--”

But their explanation cuts short when Undyne sprints into the barrier room with Alphys under one arm, bellowing about how nobody is fighting anybody. She flags when she takes in the scene and sets down her girlfriend, and Frisk opens their mouth to try to cut in and explain the situation, but Toriel, Undyne, and Alphys proceed to introduce themselves to one another. They hang back, feeling a little awkward, while Chara starts to get annoyed.

They scratch their cheek when Asgore also attempts an explanation... by opening with saying he knows she won’t forgive him. Papyrus dashes in next, neatly cutting off Toriel retorting that of course she won’t forgive him. When Sans arrives a minute later declaring he has something to tell Chara, they wonder if it’s better to just watch and wait until everyone’s said their piece, but at that point Chara’s reached the end of their own patience.

“ _HEY_!!” Chara bellows, yanking everyone’s attention over to them. “EVERYONE _SHUT UP_! FRISK HAS SOMETHING TO SAY!”

Everyone gawks. No one interrupts. They nod decisively, then mentally step back, seeping rosy affection Frisk’s way as they do. Frisk emerges with a bashful, ruddy smile, accepting it and reflecting it back.

“Um. Hi,” they announce. “Um, so you all know, Asgore wasn’t trying to steal my SOUL. He was only doing what I asked him to do.”

“ _What_?” exclaims half the room.

So Frisk explains the plan in brief, and tries not to feel too bad when Toriel looks increasingly astounded as a result.

“Wow!! You were gonna pop your SOUL out to save us?! Hardcore!!” Undyne crows.

“No it’s not!! That’s so dangerous! You could’ve died!” Papyrus argues.

“They’ve done it before, s-so theoretically, it should be possible,” Alphys cuts in.

“Maybe, but I’m more in favor of the kiddo not dying,” Sans says with a wink. He meets Frisk’s eye and seems about to add something.

“As am I,” Toriel remarks before he can, though, clutching her chest as she joins everyone else. “However, it seems I owe you an apology.” She turns to Asgore. “You are still a despicable man, but you did not deceive Frisk as I had assumed. I am sorry for that.”

“Er... it’s all right,” Asgore reassures her. “I understand why you would have thought so. Er... Is it possible we could still be friends, though?”

Toriel heaves an aggrieved sigh at the look of hapless hope on his face. “ _No_ , Asgore.”

Undyne pats Asgore on the back as he weeps with a ‘that’s rough, buddy.’ “Weird, though,” she adds. “Didn’t we all come here thinkin’ a fight was going down? Why’d we think that again?”

“Because Flowey said so!” Papyrus reminds her.

“Flowey said the same to me as well,” Toriel admits.

“That is odd,” Asgore says. “Perhaps he misunderstood the situation?”

“If he was watching, he should’ve known we weren’t fighting,” Frisk counters. “Why would he do that?”

“About that--” Sans starts.

_The SOULs,_ Chara says abruptly. _Where are the SOULs?!_

Frisk turns around to behold a neat line of empty SOUL tubes.

The next instant, a massive thorned vine sweeps in to capture all the monsters. All but one, anyway.

“Heh,” Sans utters, nimbly leaping back out of the way. “I had a feeling that might be coming. Sorry, _bud_ dy, but you’re gonna have to do better than--”

That’s when the second vine snatches him from behind.

“Dang it,” Sans mutters as he’s hoisted into the air.

“Heeheehee...” a voice rings out from nowhere. “Sorry, trashbag, but your special powers are no match for the force of narrative convenience.”

“Chara, head’s up: your grave is--nggh!” Sans grunts, cut off when the vine coils tighter around him.

“Shut up. No one cares what you have to say.” Flowey sprouts up then between Frisk and the captive monsters. “Howdy!” he chirps up at his best friends. “So, I stole the SOULs again. Surprise!”

“Why??” Frisk cries.

“Hee hee... I have to thank you for being so gullible, Frisk. You took that mention of your SOUL exactly where I thought you would!” he replies, smiling even more brightly than before.

Chara surges forward, and they narrow their eyes at him. “So everything you said on the date was a lie,” they state flatly. “Were you planning on this the whole time?”

His smile blinks out like a busted lightbulb filament. “You’ve got it wrong. I meant what I said. You two really do mean more to me than anything else.” His smile revives. “THAT’S why I’m doing this. I can’t stand the thought of you two leaving with all your other friends.” He glances to one side. “How do you think it feels when I see you both so happy without me?”

Frisk tags back in, pressing a hand to their chest. “You could have come with us! We _wanted_ you to come with us!” they insist.

Chara swaps with them to add coldly, “Enough is enough. Flowey, put everyone down. _Now_. If you do, we can still overlook this.”

“Ha ha. You say that, but you don’t really mean it, do you?” Flowey says, smile and laugh fake. “It’s just like when you ate that first buttercup. You knew there was no going back.”

When Chara can’t reply, Frisk does it for them: “No, that’s not true. There’s always time to fix your mistakes. Please stop this, Flowey! I thought we were all friends now!”

Flowey’s smile blinks out again. “Frisk, you said before you like me fine the way I am.” It turns back on. “But Chara, you never actually gave me a real response, did you?” He glances away, false cheer still plastered on. “Haha. That’s fine. Actually, I realized _I_ don’t like me, either. I don’t like that I can’t love you two back. I don’t like knowing, someday, I’ll get bored again and end up right back where I started.” His smile grows. “That’s why I’m bringing back Asriel.”

“Asriel?” Toriel gasps as Asgore startles.

“Asriel is dead,” Chara shouts. “You said so yourself!”

“Yeah, I thought so too. But, funny thing: someone bet me I was wrong. That just having his memories means I AM Asriel. Double surprise, Mom and Dad!” he asides, turning around to beam at his shocked parents. “It’s me, your dead son, resurrected in a SOULless husk of a flower! If you want the details on how, just ask that Royal Scientist over there!”

“Alphys, what does he mean?” Asgore cries as Toriel jerks her head over to her.

Alphys sweats. “Uhhhhhhhhhh...”

“But, right or wrong,” Flowey continues, turning back to Frisk-and-Chara, “to do that, I need power. _Unimaginable_ power. More power than I had even with the six SOULs. Funny how a single life isn’t equivalent, huh?” He beams at them. “And that brings us to the present moment. So just shut up and watch while I take over everything, okay?” His expression gentles... “Soon we’ll all be together forever. All three of us.” ...just before a malignant grin engulfs his face. “JUST the three of us.”

“Flowey, please stop it! There’s no way you won’t regret this later!” Frisk begs.

Chara cuts in, “Wait. You said you had a bet with someone. Who?”

Instead of answering, Flowey just laughs. His shadow bubbles and roils on the monochrome floor, a patch of anti-reality darkness against the bright and gloom of the barrier...

Frisk and Chara’s throat closes. They both know what--who--that is.

You Called For Me, And So I Appear! cheers the Player as she takes form behind Flowey, one arm draped around his stem. No One’s Favorite Family-Friendly Fun-Seeker: The Playerrrrrr!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You called for me and so I appear! etc." Flowey and the Player are both paraphrasing Genocider Syo, a.k.a. Genocide Jack/Jill, from _Dangan Ronpa_.


	38. The Despair Of Absolute Helplessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -Player- continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a little late. In return, the remaining chapters will get posted weekly.

“ _You_ ,” Chara croaks, shaking.

Me, the Player agrees. Long Time No See, Chara! You’re Looking Kinda Pale. Have You And Frisk Been Skipping Meals? That’s No Good! You Two Should Take Better Care Of Yourselves!

“Shut up!” they shriek, hands clenching into fists as they glare tearfully at Flowey. “How could you?! How COULD you! Why don’t you just rip my heart out and grind it underfoot?!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Chara,” Flowey retorts, smile creasing artificially. “It’s not like I LIKE her. I’m just using her to get what I want.”

So He Says, the Player adds.

“I don’t care! You KNOW how I feel about her, and you betrayed us anyway! I’ll never forgive you for this, Flowey. NEVER!!” they scream.

That wipes the smile off his face. He sways back from the force of their fury as if physically struck. But: “W-whatever,” he ultimately declares, leaves rustling. “You’ll change your mind when I’m Asriel again. You never could stay mad at him. You even forgave him for sparing the humans of your village!”

Chara grinds their teeth and, through them, sucks in a breath as tears of rage overflow. They know he’s right, and the sheer audacity of such open manipulation just makes them angrier. Frisk surges forward, and they let them; the reek of anise stinks too bitter and cloying for them to tolerate facing anyone any longer.

“Flowey,” Frisk murmurs, taking a step forward and crouching down in front of him. “Do you really think ‘Asriel’ would want to do what you’re doing right now?”

Flowey doesn’t respond.

“Let’s say what you’re doing works, and you get a SOUL again,” Frisk persists, seeing his hesitation. “Do you really think it’s worth regaining the ability to love after killing the people you loved?”

He glances away.

“Please. Asriel. Stop,” Frisk insists gently, kneeling down and holding their hands out to him. “I’ll say it as many times as you need me to: I like you just the way you are. And even if you can’t love me back, I’ll love you enough for the both of us.”

Flowey looks back up at them, uncertain. “I...”

The Player narrows her one eye, smile unwavering.

“Frisk is right!!” Papyrus declares overhead, one eye shut, grinning despite the painful squeeze of the vine that holds him captive. “Your friends already like you fine! There’s no need to do terrible things! But if you’re worried, know that I, the great Papyrus, in my magnamositiousness, have already forgiven you!! Nyeh heh heh!”

“Um! Y-you might not want! To hear this from me! But!!” Alphys squeaks, trying not to squirm. “Y-you’d be surprised how much slack your friends will give you, i-if you just own up to your mistakes! And I p-promise to help you deal with your... you-ness. I-it’s the least I owe you after what I did to you!”

“Yeah, uh. I think we both know you and I are probably never gonna get along,” Sans remarks, glancing at the others. “But you know what else? I think you DON’T want to lose the kiddos. If I were you, I’d dump the Player and whatever poison she’s been dripping in your ear before you alienate them for good.”

“I don’t know what the HECK is going on,” Undyne swears, squirming like crazy. “But if you’re itching for a fight, I’ll take you on anytime!! You wanna go a few rounds, get whatever’s up your stem out?! BRING IT ON!!” She bares a huge grin. “When you’re satisfied, _then_ you can hug it out with the kids!”

“Flowey... No, Asriel. So this is why I felt I had met you before,” Toriel says, smile pained, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I am deeply sorry I did not realize it sooner. You must have suffered on your own. I understand why you might resent me, but I promise no child could have ever replaced you.”

“So you were Asriel after all,” Asgore rumbles, head bowed. “There was something about you...” He looks up, smile wretched. “My son, I know what it is like to believe you are trapped in a bad decision. That is why we must both put an end to this. Let us all talk it over together. I promise I am on your side.”

“I... I...” Flowey stammers, head jerking from one monster to another.

Almost as if on cue, a stream of monsters arrive--Monster Kid, Muffet, Bratty, Catty, the Nice Cream Guy, the Royal Guards, Shyren, froggits, snowdrakes, woshuas, vulcans, and more--almost all the monsters Frisk has ever met and befriended in their journey. Their heart swells to see the crowd, headed by Mettaton who shoots them a wink, and even more to hear everyone cheer for Flowey to stop being a jerk and for Frisk to give him that long-awaited smooch: _kiss the Prince and break the curse,_ the monsters chant, as if it were all a fairy tale. They meet his eyes and see both trepidation and anticipation there. With a warm smile, they start to lean in.

It’s A Regular Flowey Fan Club Meeting In Here, I’n’t It, the Player remarks then. Frisk jerks away as she leans in to Flowey. And Like _True_ Fans, They All Get You _So_ Well, Huh?

Flowey’s ambiguous expression vanishes under a cloud of sullenness. A lightning flash of surprise streaks past as a hand snatches over his head to grab the Player by her single eye.

“Shut up,” Chara rasps, trembling with barely suppressed fury. “Shut up. Get _away_ from him. _I’ll kill you_.”

Ahaha. Ahahaha! Ahahahahaha! Heeheehee _hahahahahahaa_!!

“Shut UP!! What’s so funny, you damn human?!”

Oh, Lots Of Things--But I Was Just Thinking--The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same, Huh?

Heart hammering, Chara demands, “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Her eye illuminates under their hand. It Means No Matter How Much You Try To Deny Yourself, You Can Never Erase The Essence Of Who You Are.

They snatch away their hand as if burned, but it feels so cold. Overbalancing, they land with a _thump_ , both arms flung behind them to catch them mid-fall. They grimace, but their eyes settle on Flowey, who is hanging his head.

“I-I...” he stammers. Hints of tears glisten on his face. “I can’t believe how nice you guys are to me.” He sinks lower. “You’re all...

“...just...

“...so...

“STUPID.”

Jagged teeth and bloodshot eyes rake the crowd. “If your namby-pamby ‘kindness’ were good enough, do you think I’d be doing this in the first place?! NONE of you understand me!” The entire barrier shakes and shudders as vines erupt in every direction, swallowing up everything in its path. “So SHUT UP AND DIE! YOUR SOULS ARE MINE!!”

Chara screams, or maybe it’s Frisk. As everything shakes into nothingness around them, the barrier lights up in a searing, blinding white. Of all the voices crying out, Sans’s in particular reaches their ears, telling them to watch out for the Player, that she stole something of theirs. The cacophony drowns out exactly what. They stretch out their hand desperately as everything fades into the brightness, but meet nothing just before they fall into an impenetrable dark.

\---

“Finally.”

Frisk blinks rapidly. Vertigo creeps in on them; it feels like they’re floating in midair, but it’s pitch black in every direction. Despite this, they can see in front of them perfectly well: a white-furred boy in a green-and-yellow sweater, facing away from them.

“I was so sick of being a flower,” he continues. He flexes his hands and bounces on the balls of his feet. Breathing out a satisfied sigh, he turns around and smiles. A familiar heart-shaped locket hangs from his neck. “Howdy, Frisk! It’s real nice to meet you for the first time. And look, Chara! It’s me, your best friend!”

“Asriel...” Frisk whispers.

“...Dreemurr,” Chara finishes.

Asriel walks towards them, something that intensifies their vertigo; he doesn’t actually look like he’s moving forward, yet he’s approaching somehow. When he holds out a paw to them, it’s like it stretches across an infinite sea of darkness, illuminated only by his smile. That smile dims when Frisk flinches away from him.

“I guess you must be pretty upset, huh,” he says. “But hey! It’s okay! I can love you now! And look!” Beaming at them, he spreads his arms to either side of him; a silver stream of SOULs spirals out from behind him, framed by a rainbow halo of hearts. “I can re-make the world into whatever I want! It’s just the three of us now. We’re gonna have so much fun together!”

“I wanted to save _everyone_ ,” Frisk whispers.

Asriel lowers his arms; slowly, the SOULs re-merge with his body. “...Frisk, I did this for you. For _us_.”

“I never asked you to do this! This isn’t what I want! Why won’t you understand?”

“Me? What about you? What about what _I_ want, huh?” Asriel argues, paws clenching. “You think I should’ve stayed an empty husk forever?”

“N-no! But I...” They trail off, then shake their head and wipe their eyes with the back of their head. When the child looks up again, they glare with Chara’s piercing red eyes.

Asriel lights up. “Chara!” he exclaims, approaching with arms open for a hug. When they take a step back out of his reach, he hesitates. Then he offers a watery smile. “Chara... You aren’t still mad about the Player, are you? Don’t worry--I’m going to kick her out. We can make a game out of it!” he adds excitedly. “What do you want me to do? D’you have any requests? I bet you really want revenge, huh! That’ll make it up to you, right?”

“You IDIOT,” Chara spits.

“H-hey,” he utters, looking hurt. “What’s your problem? I thought you’d like that.”

They start to laugh. It’s a wild sound that vibrates with rage and despair. They clutch their chest to rein it back, and through a fixed, crescent smile, they reply, “You had a bet with the Player. Who do you think won?”

He hesitates. “Uh...”

They laugh again, choppy and bitter. “Like I need to ask! We both know _you_ did.” Their eyes narrow, and tears streak like dying stars down their cheeks. “Asriel IS dead. This, this _imitation_ you transformed yourself into, is nothing more than that: an imitation. The Asriel I loved would _never_ be so blasé about people’s lives.” Voice rising, they shout, “So congratulations on winning, **Flowey**! I’m sure you’re fucking proud of yourself!!”

Asriel gapes at them, stumbling back a step. The Player ghosts up behind him, the corona of her outline barely visible, her crescent smile bright as blood.

Ahahaha. _Brutal_. I Love It, she jeers. That Must Cut Pretty Deep, Huh, Ree-Ree?

His jaw works, but no sound comes out. Tears wobble in the corners of his eyes. Then his paws clench into fists.

“Chara, that’s not fair!” he yells, voice high and reedy. “It’s me! Asriel! I’m finally who you want me to be!”

“What kind of person do you think I am, that THIS is what you think I want?!” Chara screams back. “Why don’t you make it easier on both of us and just admit you hate me!!”

“I don’t--I don’t!! Why am I never good enough for you?! What else do I need to _do_?!”

At this, Chara hesitates, blinking rapidly, as years of codependent friendship and mutual pining rearrange to form a different picture. He’d asked why he was never good enough for them.

Their first thought is: _He thought_ he _wasn’t good enough for_ me _?_

Their second: _Have I always made him feel that way?_

They bite back a whisper of _Idiot_ , tears welling up again.

In the moment that they waver, Frisk comes forward to take control. “Asriel,” they plead. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings earlier, and I’m sorry Chara’s so angry. But please, this isn’t okay. Nobody is happy with this. You must think so too now that you have a SOUL again, right?”

“Having a SOUL again _was_ what I wanted!” Asriel protests, shaking. “Just _being_ loved has never worked for me! Do you have any idea what it was like, feeling empty and incomplete all the time?! But then you showed up! And Chara came back! And everything changed! But it hadn’t changed enough! Frisk, why won’t you just _let me love you_?!”

“But this isn’t the right way!” they wail with frustration.

“ENOUGH!” he roars, and all of existence cracks white. When the flash sears away, Asriel--yet not Asriel--floats before them. Black stripes run down his cheeks, highlighting the dark sclera of his eyes, and long horns curl back over his head, a mark of monster maturity. The Delta Rune adorns his purple robes, cupping the golden locket still hanging from his neck. When he floats back and forth, he leaves behind rainbow trails, and glittering motes of light trace after his claws as he stretches them out.

Chara’s tumultuous emotions suddenly all glow hot magenta. Frisk knows exactly how they feel. They know this is neither the time nor the place, but Asriel looks _really_ good like that.

“You have NO idea how powerful I really am! If you and Chara won’t do what I want, I’ll just have to MAKE you!!” Asriel booms. Even his voice sounds cooler. This is a personal attack.

Oh, I Have A Good Idea On That, the Player chirps, settling in around him like an anti-aura. Why Don’t You Let Me Help You Out? Two Vs. Two! That’s Fair, Probably.

Asriel stabs the Player with a pointed look. Then he smiles, all fangs. “Sure, ‘friend,’” he replies. “You just gave me a good idea, too.”

Oh, Boy, the Player cheers.

Frisk’s SOUL emerges from their chest, but they hesitate as they look upon the terrible team-up. Asriel leers down at them, trailing iridescence and absolute darkness. The darkness threads through the shining rainbows, and a pair of massive swords appear in Asriel’s hands.

The twin blades sweep at Frisk from either direction, one after another, then both at once. Chara takes over their legs and leaps out of the way, back and forth, then crouches between the blades and evades the sparks of searing light that dance from the magic edges. Above Asriel, the Player’s anti-reality darkness loops into a heart shape; the color captured within is all aqua.

_The Absolute GOD of Hyperdeath,_ Chara observes. Though they’re quiet, their emotions glitter rosy crimson. _Oh my god, that dumb, cute nerd. This is SUCH a personal attack._

Frisk twists away from the sparks and nearly falls over. _Then is he ‘Asriel’ after all?_

_I--_ They pause. The red flattens out, dark and liquid like blood, and dismay dusts it pale gray. _I don’t know. Maybe she was right. Maybe he really is Ree. B-but if that’s true..._

“You don’t have any idea how lonely I’ve been!” Asriel shouts. Massive bolts of lightning tear down through reality to connect with blocks that appear at Frisk’s feet. Even getting glanced by one sears through them, but they hold fast to their hopes and make it through in one piece. The black-lined aqua heart meanwhile threads around Asriel, and soon loops into a second heart, this time all orange. “You two at least have each other! But I always get left behind. It’s not fair!!”

“That isn’t the problem!” Frisk shouts back, wobbling on their feet. “We just don’t want you to hurt anybody, Asriel! We were wrong to do that ourselves in the first place!”

He sweeps down an arm, and stars shower down from above, left and right and exploding into countless tinier sparks of light. At the same time, blue and purple hearts join the Player’s chain. Frisk and Chara weave through the miniature supernovas, dreaming of reaching Asriel’s heart even as stardust assails their SOUL.

“It _is_ the problem!” he insists as the last of the stars burst. “I got to share your SOUL with you, Frisk. And I’ve been one with you before, Chara! After experiencing that... how could I ever be satisfied with that worthless little flower body?!”

_Asriel..._ the two children think in unison. Though pain and exhaustion wrack their shared body, they stand upright, knees wobbling. Their equally shared dream washes over them, rejuvenating and strengthening them. Frisk spreads their arms, and Chara calls, “So what are you saying? You want us all to be one again? Isn’t that the one thing you’re _not_ doing?”

“I--!” But Asriel hesitates.

Above him, the dark chain adds in a green heart, then a yellow one. The thread twists and coils at the end, and seeing it makes the two humans nervous.

“I’m sorry,” Frisk calls. “I don’t have any way of knowing how hard it was to live without a SOUL. But the fact that you took everyone’s SOULs _but_ ours proves that you don’t really want to be one! You _know_ it won’t make you any less lonely!”

“Shut up! Of course I know that!” A huge blaster, the size of the grown-up Asriel’s arm, materializes, and he aims it at them. Three laser sights appear, and magic stars burst out in a rat-a-tat-tat following the sights. Frisk cries out as the attacks strike them, but Chara shoves them and their SOUL to one side to stay between the lines of the next burst fire.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Asriel continues as he fires the third round, then the fourth. “I don’t want to share you! I’ve had enough of being left behind! So please! STOP RUNNING AWAY!”

The blaster charges up, flowing and glowing in rainbow colors. When Asriel aims it at them, Chara makes haste to be where his aim is not--but his arm pulses deeper-than-black, and he jerks the blaster to one side. Its power releases, and the two humans find themselves moving directly into the path of fire.

Frisk and Chara scream. For a moment, it feels like their minds are melting together, it’s so hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. An eternity later, the blaster fire tapers off, and they slump to their hands and knees. Nausea rocks their stomach, and they gag and retch. They slap a hand over their mouth to keep from being sick all over the void, and peer up with blurry eyes at their SOUL, which is a single point of HP away from shattering.

Darkness frames it. A little tail at the bottom connects it all the way back to the six SOULs, the Player, and finally Asriel.

Ten In Four In Two In One, the Player sing-songs. Now, Shall We Synchronize?

The other human SOULs orbit around Frisk’s, and they keep their hand over their mouth as they clutch their stomach. It isn’t painful this time, but it isn’t pleasant, either. The void swirls, spinning Frisk’s predecessors around them, then ticks off a SOUL one at a time behind theirs, orange, yellow, green, aqua, blue, purple, until all of them form a neat and orderly line. Asriel yanks back on it. Frisk doesn’t know if they launch themselves forward to try to grab their SOUL back or if they’re being yanked along with the essence of their being, but all of a sudden they find themselves flying at him. He opens his arms and the line of SOULs embeds back into him, except for theirs, which crashes back inside of them when he catches them.

It’s a strange feeling, both creepily alien and comfortably familiar. They can feel their heart beating in time with the SOULs, and therefore in time with Asriel’s. They wheeze out a weak breath of protest, and Asriel holds them a little tighter. Their head sinks onto his shoulder, though it’s Chara who grips the sleeve of his robe with shaky fingers.

Now You’re Connected Without Having To Lose Any Physical Forms, the Player explains. Your Cuddlefest Is A-Go-Go. Aren’t I Nice? I’m Soooo Smart!

“See?” he crows, as if it had been his plan all along. Claws gentle in contrast to his smugness, he slips one arm under their knees and picks them up in a princess carry as he rises upright. “I told you I was strong. I won, so now you have to do whatever I say.”

_We never agreed to that!_ Chara yells in their head, but Frisk can only wheeze a bit.

He leans in and whispers, “Don’t worry. I said it’d be just the three of us, and I meant it.”

Hmmm? Are You Still Going On About Kicking Me Out? That’s Pretty Rude, Ree-Ree.

Asriel smirks, winking, as he shakes his head at her. “Wow! Guess who doesn’t care!”

A flash of rainbow sears forward, slicing into anti-reality shadow and purging it from his outline. He transfers Frisk to his hip to carry them one-armed, then gestures grandly with his now-free arm to bring down a hailstorm of stars around the now bodiless shadow.

“I told you I didn’t like you,” he taunts. “And now that I have what I want, I’ve got no reason to let you live!”

_Rude_ , the Player repeats.

The stars fall down, cutting and bursting, but where they slice into shadow, hints of white peek out underneath. Curved lines, not all connected, sweeping and arching like...

Good Thing I Came Prepared, she adds in the wake of the attack. She stands maybe four and a half feet tall, if that.

Frisk, clutching the God of Hyperdeath’s shoulder, widens their eyes. Those are bones under there.

Incidentally, Ree-Ree, she continues, I Know You Hate Sans And All (And I’m Not Saying Don’t), But Maybe You Should Consider That When He Has Something To Say, It’s Probably Important. Or A Skeleton Joke. Or, In This Case, Both.

“Where did you _get_ those?” he demands, somewhere between horrified and fascinated.

Where Do You Think?

Chara jerks out of Asriel’s grasp then, nearly falling out of his arms entirely as they snatch at the void around the Player. “My bones. Those are _my bones_ ,” they rasp.

Hey, Chara Gets It! She shrugs over at Asriel. The motion, even structured, is eerily liquid. Ree-Ree- _Really_ Now. You Must’ve Thought It Was Weird You Could Hear Me Without A Host, Right? Although This Isn’t Really A _Proper_ Host, As Is--But It’s Good Enough For Establishing A Connection With Your World.

He bares his teeth in what can only technically be called a grin. Then he sets Chara down and forces them behind him. “I _did_ think that was weird. You sure got me,” he replies. “But now that I know this, there’s something I’ve got to ask.”

Yo?

Asriel thrusts both hands out, and the chain of connected rainbow SOULs materializes with countless silver monster SOULs whirling around it. They snap back behind him, power merging and coalescing over his palms, and he fires an enormous beam of pure energy. “Did you REALLY think it would do you any good?!”

A high-pitched shriek cuts through the void, eerily dislocated and sourceless. The light from the beam blinds Frisk, and their eyes water as they clutch Asriel’s back, knees giving out. The display fills up their entire being until they can barely feel Chara or even themself anymore.

“So what if you found yourself a make-shift host?” Asriel continues, grinning viciously, as he pours on the power. “But let me thank you anyway! If I get rid of you AND give Chara their own body back, they’ll HAVE to forgive me!”

The silver light of monster magic surges in, burning and flaking away the darkness that clings to Chara’s bones. In their place, flesh and hair and nails begin to slowly appear, until the form looks outright human. The magic of the human SOULs strikes then, blasting off the last of the Player’s anti-form, and the screams warble like an ambulance siren. When the last of the “attack” tapers off, it leaves behind a shivering child to collapse in the void.

Asriel takes a few seconds to admire his handiwork. Chara ought to be satisfied with this body. Seriously--like her stealing their bones would make him hesitate!

Soft sobbing drifts through the void as he teleports himself and Frisk over to the newly reformed body. Asriel levitates the Player up by the collar, and her head hangs forward, hair falling haphazardly down her face.

“Really, I have to be grateful to you. You’ve done me a _huge_ favor,” Asriel says, smirking. It’ll be a lot easier to make Chara _and_ Frisk his if he doesn’t have to deal with a body time-share, and Chara ought to be happier with their own space, too. He caresses the body’s cheek, then holds his hand palm-flat in front of her face. “Now it’s time to rip you out of there and banish you FOREVER. You won’t even be able to get a peek back into this world once I’m done with you!”

N-No. Stop, the Player moans. The soft sobbing continues unabated. You Don’t Know What You’re Doing, Asriel.

He cackles outright at that, shaking his head as he winks. “Oh, I know _exactly_ what I’m doing. I told you an otherworlder like you would just be a brand-new challenge!” He flicks his wrist to let the power of the SOULs within him surge, and the sobs squeal hard into a long, high-pitched shriek. “Now, taste the despair of absolute helplessness!!”

A sound like thunder explodes. The body jerks, twitches, flails, and collapses, shucking off the familiar version of the Player’s form. Asriel catches Chara’s body in his other arm, smiling with triumph. Then he sweeps his paw towards the evicted void and stamps a shining outline around it, like a corona around the solar eclipses he’d seen in astronomy books. The best part is, it’s so _easy_. There’s nothing like slapping down weaklings who talk a big game. Her pathetic whimpering is just the cherry on top. That’s what this idiot gets for underestimating him.

“Any last words?” he taunts her, concentrating on materializing an appropriate seal tomb.

The Player’s head’s outline jerks to one side, and her scarlet eye cracks open. Frisk? You Doin’ Okay There, Buddy?

Asriel stares down at them, and sees tears and snot streaking their purple-red face. Frisk, for their part, tilts their head up and nearly pukes from the effort. Their vision sways as they look between Asriel and the Player, and the breath in their chest stutters like a staccato beat.

It’s then that Frisk realizes that the screams, sobs, and whimpers had been theirs.

Hey, So, Eff-Why-Eye, the Player adds, Since You Don’t Seem To Get What “Synchronize” Means, Whatever Happens To One SOUL, Happens To The Rest. As Such, Using The Human SOULs Like This Causes Frisk A Lot Of Pain.

“What?!” Panic floods his dark eyes as he jerks his head between Frisk and the Player. Then his brow creases with anger. “That won’t be a problem once you’re gone! I’ll just be more careful in the future!”

Yeah, About That. Her sickle smile slices her face open. What Makes You Think I Synced The SOULs To _You_?

The implications of this plunge into Asriel the same instant the Player plunges one of her arms into his chest. When she pulls back, she uproots the entire train of SOULs in a spray of glittering dust. This time, the screams are his.

Frisk tumbles away from Asriel and sprawls along, nonsensically, a floor of nothingness. Maybe it’s just their perception of how reality _should_ work that makes it work like that. If this is a place that Asriel could have spun whole cloth, after all... Shaking, sweating, they jerk their head up to look over at him, and see a tiny monster in a striped green sweater shivering and moaning. Gray monster SOULs spill out of him like a bag of sand and hang like stars in every direction of the void. They reach for him, but he’s too far away, and they feel themself rising into the air.

Hello There, Frisk, says the Player, floating very close to them. I Don’t Believe We’ve Had The Chance To Really Talk Before N--

Chara strikes.

Even a weak weapon, like a toy knife or a dull dagger or, for example, a gardening trowel, can slay in one strike if the blow is powered by the intent to kill. And while the Player isn’t a monster, in a certain sense of the word, she may as well be.

Fingers yank the trowel out from a striped sweater sleeve. Hatred fuels the upward thrust into what would be the Player’s rib cage, if she had one. The dull trowel tip bites like the sharpest of blades. But, and not for lack of trying, only the tip cuts in.

Wow, the Player breathes, nub locked on Chara’s wrist. Both their arms tremble from the force each exerts against the other. Lines of red trail down. Wow, That Was Really Scary.

Chara doesn’t answer. They’re too busy trying to stab her to death.

I-It’s A Good Thing I Sensed Your Intent Through Frisk’s SOUL, the Player continues, struggling against them. Or You Might’ve Gotten Me.

“Shut up and die,” they hiss.

Chara, We’ve Been Through A Lot Together, she replies, leaning her head in to gently bump Frisk/Chara’s. Her eye narrows. But Now I’m Thinking That Eight Consciousnesses For Seven SOULs Is One Consciousness Too Many.

Force of will streaks from purple all the way down to red like a paring knife, slicing a single mind off in a single swift stroke. With a gasp, Frisk’s eyes fly open, and they drop the trowel and sag down to their knees. The trowel hangs in midair as if suspended.

“Ch-Chara?” they call shakily. They pat their chest, their head, their shoulders and arms and sides, then whip wildly from side to side. “Chara?!”

Asriel remains crumpled next to the extra body, but he’s lifted his head up, and the terror in his eyes matches what they feel. Frisk hasn’t felt so empty and alone since... well, since they climbed the mountain and fell down.

Oh, Now That I Think About It, the Player muses above them, Counting Me, That’d Be _Nine_ Consciousnesses For Seven SOULs. Gosh, I’m Such A Hypocrite.

“Wh-what did you do to Chara?!” Frisk half-demands, half-sobs, tears welling up.

You Need A Ticket To Ride The Galactic Railroad, she replies. Theirs Was Punched Ages Ago, So I Just Escorted Them Off The Train.

“No,” Asriel croaks, paws curling. “You didn’t. You couldn’t!! How could you??”

The Player turns to look at him but doesn’t respond.

Frisk twists around and fixes their stare on the reformed body. Chara said those were their bones, and Asriel poured magic into it so it might live. _Please,_ they pray to whoever might listen, _please, please let Chara have ended up in there, please let them survive--_

As if in answer, the body coughs and stirs with a low _ugh_. Frisk feels themself light up, but Asriel’s right there next to it--to _them_ \--and his paws are on their arms in an instant.

“Chara!! Is that you?!” he begs.

They cough and hack and rasp again, and slowly lift their head, red eyes ringed with shadows. “R-Ree...?” Chara croaks.

Asriel sobs and throws his arms around them. They blink slowly, then turn their head. When their eyes settle on Frisk, they gape wide.

“Frisk...?!” they whisper.

Without thinking about it, Frisk launches themself forward. Either the space between them is shorter than it looked or they look off faster than they realized, because an instant later, they’ve rocketed into Chara arms-first and captured both in an intense hug. Asriel makes baffled, wounded noises, but Chara laughs warmly a second later and holds them back. Soon enough, they hold open an arm each, and Asriel smiles shyly and joins into the loop.

The Player watches the three hug it out for a long while. Then she looks down at the wound on her featureless form. A couple of prods makes a bit more vermillion fluid leak out. Deflating, she sighs, the sound long and thin.

Then she looks back up at the three children. The three of them glare back, Frisk with a pursed frown, Asriel with worry lines, Chara with narrowed eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Frisk wonders, on guard.

Oh, It’s Nothing, she says, listing to one side. Just, Seeing You All So Happy To Be Together Made Me Think Of Something Sad.

Chara growls, “Give it up. You’re out of physical forms to possess. If I can’t kill you, eternal banishment’s the next best thing.”

Oh, Gosh, You’re Right. Whatever Will I Do Without A Physical Form? She pauses for a beat, then spreads her arms. Behind her, the barrier pulses to life, air sucking in and out like a giant’s breath. Hey, Check Out This Cool Human-Powered Forcefield That No Amount Of Monster SOULs Could Break! How Much You Wanna Bet I Can Sync This To Me, Too?

“NO!! You can’t do that!!” Asriel screams, eyes wide with panic.

Wow! Guess Who Doesn’t Care!

Blurred lines of black and white vibrate through reality, and the Player’s outline merges with them, followed by the rainbow colors of the human SOULs. Frisk clutches their chest, gasping in pain, and Chara and Asriel both touch their back and shoulders in alarm.

So, A Piece Of Advice To The Three Of You, the Player’s voice resounds. Before You Try To SAVE The World, Why Don’t You Try To SAVE Yourselves?

The vibrations intensify into a voidquake. Soon a black-and-white outline of a background materializes, only to crumble away and send Chara and Asriel screaming into the depths. Frisk yelps and reaches for them, but something pulls them away from the edge. They swoon, and everything turns bright.

\---

_in a place far away, i had a dream_

Whose voice is that?

_in a time long ago, i liked to seem_

Who’s singing?

_as if i was ruler of my fancied world_

They should know this.

_thus i could avoid this cruel, empty world..._

...They _do_ know this.

\---

Slowly, blearily, Frisk cracks their eyes open. The luminosity has faded, and it feels like they may have lost consciousness for a moment, or maybe their consciousness passed through... something else. When they look down, they see they’re seated at a wrought iron table painted while. When they squirm, they feel a cushion at their back and under their bottom, and when they feel past it, their fingertips brush cold metal.

They look up at see the Player, seated opposite them. Their heart leaps into their throat, and they gasp as they shove themself back--or try to. Neither the table nor the chair go anywhere, and looking down, it seems like they’re floating in the middle of nothing.

For her part, the Player leans her “elbows” on the table, nubs folded to let her lean her chin on them. Frisk takes a deep breath. Of course she’s here. Thinking it through sensibly, where else would she take them but to her? When their pulse is back under control, they look at her again with a little frown, echoes of a melancholy song in their mind.

So, As I Was Saying Earlier, she says, apparently sensing their calm. How Do You Do, Frisk? Care For Tea? Coffee? Soda? Hot Chocolate?

_It would probably be rude,_ Frisk thinks, _to try to pinch myself myself awake._

They try it anyway.


	39. Where Are My Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -Player- continues.

Frisk squeezes their eyes tight for good measure, fingernails pinching their cheek hard. When they take a wary peek, though, the Player’s still seated across from them, watching them with what might be amusement or possibly pity.

Some Nightmares You Can’t Wake Up From, No Matter How Much You’d Like To, she remarks almost sympathetically.

The hairs on the back of Frisk’s neck stand up as they rub their face. Flowey had said something very similar each time they’d died at his leaves during the Omega Flowey fight. He’d been a lot meaner about it, though, and the contrast leaves them confused and uneasy.

So, Is That A Yes Or A No On The Drinks? she adds.

“No,” Frisk replies curtly, then adds, “No, thank you. Where are my friends?”

She looks down at what passes for the floor, and Frisk follows her gaze to see Chara and Asriel somewhere far below. Ignoring the vertigo this gives them, Frisk jumps out of their chair, but it’s no use; they stop in midair, and won’t fall no matter how many times they stomp.

No Need To Rush. There’s Plenty Of Time To Enjoy The _Floor_ Show, Heh Heh.

Frisk makes a face at her. Liking puns, an admirable trait in Chara and Sans, seems hideously inappropriate for the Player, somehow. They look back down at their friends. Chara and Asriel look to be passed out in two separate spots; they can’t be dead, or there wouldn’t be much of a “show” (they hope). Then they reluctantly get back in their chair and fold their hands.

I Guess You’re Pretty Mad At Me, she remarks.

Frisk stares at her. Answering that seems pointless.

Well, That’s Fine. I Don’t Really Mind. It’s Not Like I Don’t Deserve It.

_That_ startles them. “You really think that?”

Well, Sure. How Much Hell Have I Put You And Your Friends Through Now? It Would Be Unreasonable For Me To Expect You _Not_ To Be Upset.

They stare at her a moment longer. “Are you going to apologize, then?” they hazard.

I Could, If You Really Insist. I Mean, I Know You Want Me To. It’s Sort Of Meaningless For Me To Apologize When I Don’t Intend On Fixing The Behavior I Apologized For, Though.

_She’s weirdly honest,_ they think, and then ache when they remember there’s no one inside them to respond. “Were you like this with Chara, too?”

That’s Hard To Say. I Think They Projected The Relationship They Wanted Onto Me. The Alternative Was Accepting That I Could Control Them At Will, Though, And Chara Has A _Thing_ About Being Controlled. If I Was Going To Force Them To Murder All The Monsters, At Least They Could Pretend They Had Some Agency In It.

“Why would you do that? What did any of us ever do to you?” Frisk wonders, very quiet. “Do you hate us for some reason? Did we do something to offend you?”

No! she protests with startling force. No, Your Torment At My Hands Is Completely Undeserved. I’m Actually Dearly Fond Of All Of You--Not Just You And Chara And Asriel, But This Entire World And Everyone In It. She pauses. Then she adds, Except For Burgerpants. Never Liked That Guy Much.

Is that supposed to be a joke? But she sounded so insistent, even sincere. It’s not an apology, but it rings close to one--much more than her previous statement did. They just don’t get her. “If that’s true, why _are_ you doing this?” they ask, baffled.

I Don’t Think You’ll Like The Answer To That.

“Tell me anyway. Please.”

Well Then, Since You Asked So Nicely: It’s Because I Don’t Like Myself.

Frisk blinks rapidly. “I... excuse me?”

Oh, Sure, I Could Wax Pretentious About How I’m The Only One Here Who’s Real So I Can Do What I Want, Or Spew Garbage About How I’m Actually Helping You With An Obnoxious Implication That You Should Be Grateful For My Abuse, Or Any Number Of Other Excuses, But It Boils Down To: I’m A Bad Person And I Hate Myself For It. Some Reason, Huh?

At a loss, Frisk stares at her, mouth agape.

\---

After what seems like an eternity, Chara twitches their finger.

Their eyelids follow suit; then their head; then, with a hefty groan, their arms and legs. They call Frisk, but nobody comes, save a memory. It feels unnatural to be in a body by themself.

When they stand, they wobble and sway and swing an arm out to grab something with which to steady themself. They touch something long and flat, and in the corner of their eye they see someone human standing there--several humans. With a strangled gasp, they jerk away, arms held up defensively. When the humans all do exactly the same thing at exactly the same time, though, they realize they’re not people but reflections. They look around slowly to see a mirror house’s worth of them. And, like a mirror house, it’s super-creepy.

For one, the mirrors don’t actually have substance; there’s a reflection, and a glint of light, and a hint of dimensions, but no frame and no connection to any other mirror, even when Chara attempts to feel for one. For another, there’s still no sense of a floor in the void, though they walk as though there is one, nor are there any hints in the mirrors of the monster SOULs cast like constellations in what passes for the sky. And finally, though each mimics their motions perfectly, none of their reflections look exactly the same.

Oh, sure, some things remain static: shoulder-length brown hair, red eyes, pale skin, green-and-yellow striped top, brown pants. But the demon, as it were, is in the details. Some wear knee-shorts; some wear long pants. Some have sock garters; some wear tights. Some have curly hair; some, fluffy; some, straight. Some look around with eyes open wide and bright; some glare gloomily. Some wear tie-up boots; some, sneakers. Some wear sweaters; some wear a polo vest. Some are shorter, some are taller, some are younger, some are older. Chara stumbles from side to side, and every single reflection, cast into eternity, stumbles with them. It’s overwhelmingly eerie. Of all the Charas here, which is the real them?

They take a deep breath. They take several. They look down at themself. Their outline is indistinct; lines of green and yellow and brown blur over them. Feeling nauseous, they slowly, methodically begin to make their way through the mirror maze. Their infinite other selves walk with them, hesitant, mistrustful. Chara catches sight of black ichor, but when they look again, no one’s eyes are clouded. They keep moving.

“Ree? Frisk?” they call. “Can either of you hear me?”

They wait for a response. They don’t even get an echo.

They step forward, then jerk around; one reflection’s motion had been slightly out of sync with the others. However, there’s only them here. Such as they are. Maybe their mind is playing tricks on them. Maybe the Player is. Looking around slowly, they keep their hand on the cool mirror surfaces and continue to traverse the labyrinth.

As they do, they can’t shake the feeling of being watched. This is no surprise. No doubt the Player is watching from somewhere and laughing at them. Rage boils inside them at the thought, and they kick one of the mirrors in passing. They’d keep going just like that, if at their back they hadn’t heard a clear and distinct, “Ow.”

Chara freezes. They turn around. The reflection they’d kicked looks as baffled and paranoid as they feel. They turn some more. That... had been their voice, hadn’t it? Heart hammering, they wave an arm out in front of them to no avail. Is there really no one else there?

The mirrors curve outwardly in front of them. They blink rapidly, then peer at the center image. Somehow, it seems closer than it ought to be. It’s one of the smilers, bright-eyed and waxy-faced, just like they always looked when things weren’t funny and they had no escape or control. They take a step forward. So does the reflection. Another. And another. At last, they’re face-to-face, and Chara leans in, frowning as hard as they can. Their reflection smiles just as hard back. They sigh in aggravation, but their reflection doesn’t, and that’s the only warning they get before their other self stabs them in the gut.

In a flash, Chara puts distance between them and the other them, one hand clutching their stomach wound, one hand gripping the top of a mirror. Their opposite reflection, still smiling, takes another slow step forward. The mirror behind them vanishes, and their knife drips red.

“Greetings,” they say as ichor wells up in their eyes. “I am you.”

\---

A flash of movement draws Frisk’s eye, and what they see sweeps their conversation with the Player out of mind.

“Chara!!” they yelp, leaping out of their seat to land on all fours. They gawk down at a pair of Charas, one wielding a knife, one clutching a bleeding wound. “What’s going on?!”

Ah, I See They’re Facing Themself. This’ll Be Fun.

Frisk half-turns towards her. “‘Fun’? Chara’s hurt!”

She returns their gaze, unsmiling. Frisk, You Know Chara Hates Themself Too, Right? 

A chill of revelation shivers through Frisk’s body. They do know that. Chara never said it, but Frisk knows they never forgave themself for what they’d done. Is this something Chara needs to do, then? But if that’s true, then...

They clutch their chest, take a deep breath through their nose, and let it out through their mouth. Right. They can’t stop worrying for their friend, but they _can_ cheer them on. Clasping their hands and filling their SOUL with love for Chara, they focus on the one-sided fight below.

\---

“Th-this isn’t real,” Chara stammers, clutching their wound. “It can’t be.”

Ever-smiling, the other them surges forward knife-first. This time, Chara manages to get out of the way of the initial strike, but their double slashes to one side as they dodge and scores an angry line of blood across their upper arm.

All the same, Chara continues to retreat. Their double follows them, sometimes at a leisurely stroll, sometimes with motion blindingly fast, always with that frozen smile and inky eyes. The infinite reflections dance with them as Chara gains a collection of minor cuts, but when they look, they see that each one has something they don’t: a knife. _The_ knife. The design differs, but they know in their lack of SOUL that it’s the one.

Meanwhile, they’re short even their trowel... though they, too, had tried to wield it as a blade.

“You cannot change who we are,” their double states, chasing them at walking pace. “We will always be a demon. Our only skill. Is in hurting others.”

“S-stop it,” Chara protests. Their left foot wobbles dangerously beneath them. If they stumble and fall here, their double will cut them down for sure.

“Stop denying yourself. You hate the Player. You wish to kill her.”

They bite their tongue.

“We will do that. And then destroy this world.”

“No! I hate the Player, but I don’t hate the world, too!”

“Yes, you do. You hate this world and everyone in it. For allowing you to exist. For forcing you to suffer. When such a thing as happiness exists.” Their double stops and points their knife at them. “When Asriel betrayed us again.”

A chill streaks up their spine. Thoughts like that had sustained them through the previous timeline. And Asriel... They talked everything through, they were finally honest with each other, and he still took the Player’s help. Their stomach turns. In the heat of the moment, they told him they’d never forgive him. Even now, they’re _still_ angry: at Asriel, at the Player, at themself. Is that anger why this is happening? Are they incapable of being a better person?

“There is nothing for us,” their double continues. “Once this world dies. We will finally know peace.”

“That’s not true!” they yell. “Frisk, at least--”

Their double shoots forward. Chara stomps their bad foot down and braces themself with the other as they they snatch their hands out and catch their double by the wrist. The tip of the blade hovers millimeters from their skin. Their double leans forward, black eyes on red.

“You do not truly believe in Frisk,” they tell them.

Chara’s breath stops.

“If you did, you would not have taken control. You would not have attacked the Player. Deep down, you still feel that violence is the answer. That only violence will protect you,” says the other them. “You are weak. I am strong. You desire strength. I am your desire for strength. But there is no need for strength in pacifism. Frisk’s way will be the end of us. Give in.”

For a heartbeat, the two remain locked together. Then the tension between them gives way, and Chara’s hands slip. The other Chara’s knife sinks deep into their chest, and together, the two sprawl to the ground.

Slowly, leisurely, the other Chara sits up, one hand on the handle of their knife, the other flat on the void. With a hollow laugh, they begin to pull it out--but then they stop, and look at their knife hand.

Chara’s hand settles on top of it.

“So,” they murmur in a low voice, “that’s what I really think, huh.”

The other Chara stares down at them. Pitch oozes down their cheeks.

“I’ve always known--I wasn’t a good person,” they wheeze, bloody chest laboring in shallow swells. “That I’d... never... unroot all of... the hate I feel. That if... I wanted anyone... to care about me, I’d--have to fake it.”

“You are suffering,” the other Chara observes.

Chara chuckles faintly, blood bubbling from the corner of their mouth. “Yeah, it’s almost--like I’ve been stabbed, or something,” they quip.

Their other self’s soulless smile doesn’t budge.

“Maybe--you’re right. Maybe... I’ll never be--a true pacifist,” they continue. “But Frisk told me... ‘even if you’re not good... I still love you.’” Their red eyes begin to shimmer. “Even you... have to acknowledge... how much that meant to us.”

“We... cannot be loved,” their other self replies, subdued. “We are unlovable.”

“Haha... yeah,” Chara whispers, “I never could--shake that feeling... either.” They reach their trembling arms up, then rest them on their other self’s shoulders. “But... Frisk accepted us. That’s--the truth.”

The other Chara doesn’t respond. The pitch rolling down their face begins to drip.

Wheezes turn into gasps. It’s getting harder to breathe. Even so... they gently pull their other self’s shoulders down. They submit, until the other Chara is sprawled over Chara and Chara’s arms wrap around them.

“So I’ll... accept you, too,” they whisper. “Frisk and Ree... both like me; maybe--one day... I’ll figure out--the appeal.”

Their other self’s eyelids drift half-shut. “Asriel still betrayed us. He wanted to control us. You hate to be controlled. That is why you despise the Player.”

“Yeah,” Chara admits. “Ree’s probably... more like us... than I ever--wanted to acknowledge. But if... I can accept you... I can accept--that Flowey-like... part of him, too.”

Their other self begins to melt and seep into Chara’s body. _You remain a malignant coward. A frightened child who knows no mercy, only the language of cruelty._

_Maybe,_ Chara thinks back to their inner demon. _But if I’m going to have the courage to live on, I can start by being a little nicer to myself._

Their other self returns into them. For a moment, Chara does nothing but breathe. Then, slowly, agonizingly, they pull themself upright, carefully minding the tool still embedded in their torso. Gritting their teeth, they ease it out, millimeter by painful millimeter. Once it’s out, the blood remains, but the wound has scarred over, and the knife has become a trowel.

They pant, staring down at the flat, dull metal. Gently, they trace the edge with their thumb. Then they poke their wound, but were it not for the scar, it would be like it never was. Around them, their reflections are gone. Only they remain.

Once they’ve caught their breath, Chara clutches their chest with one hand. Then they roll onto their feet and leave the mirrors behind.

Someone is calling them.

\---

Frisk breathes out a sigh of relief and clutches the locket around their neck when they see Chara get up. They remain concerned for them, but... even from this distance, they recognize the trowel in Chara’s hand. Despite everything, it’s still them.

They look up at the Player as they get to their feet. She said she doesn’t like herself but all of them are dear to her. If they keep trying--if they show her the compassion they’ve given all their friends of the Underground--can they find some way to convince her to stop?

“You said you’re fond of us,” they press as they re-seat themself. “Wouldn’t you have a lot more fun if you were friends with everyone?”

Probably. But It’d Just Be An Illusion. You Can’t _Really_ Be There For Me.

Déjà vu washes over them like the night tide. “Is that why you were with Flowey before?”

We Have A Lot In Common, Yes.

Frisk considers this. “What,” they ask, “do you _really_ want?”

Haha... You’re Starting To Get It. She leans across the table, crescent smile waning into a thin line. What I _Really_ Want... Is Meaningless. It’s Unattainable. Even If I Could Attain It, I Know All Too Well How Fragile It Is, And So I Can’t Trust It. That’s Why I Come Here To These Worlds: To Distract Myself. And Sometimes, Those Self-Distractions Involve Being An Enormous Jerk To People Who Don’t Deserve It.

“You really _are_ like Flowey,” Frisk observes.

Hahahaha. I Hope You’re Not Getting Too Sympathetic.

“Should I not be?”

It Won’t Do You Any Good. Unlike Flowey, I Have A SOUL.

Despite knowing they shouldn’t be surprised, this takes them aback. “Really?”

Sure. I Mean, I Don’t Keep It Here. But I Have One. I Have Several, If You Want To Get Technical. But I Have One That’s Mine And Mine Alone. She curls her nubs over the table and twists them together into non-Euclidean shapes. Gaster Said It Best: I Know The Difference Between Right And Wrong. Knowing It, I Still Choose To Do Wrong. Even If, Hypothetically, I Had A Noble Goal In Mind, That Doesn’t Erase How I’m Actively Hurting You. I’d Like To Think I’m At Least Self-Aware Enough To Realize The Former Doesn’t Make The Latter Okay.

Frisk leans forward. “What noble goal do you mean?”

I Said “Hypothetically,” Frisk. In Actuality, Every Monster You Attacked, I Was There To Guide Your Actions. Every Monster You Killed, I Directed The Final Blow. Mind You, I Also Helped You Spare The Monsters You Spared, But It’s Pretty Arrogant To Claim Credit For The Love When I Collected The LOVE.

“If you helped me with being friendly, then you could still be part of a happy ending,” they persuade. “We could write it together.”

I Wonder, Is It Because Of The Neglect You Suffered That You’re So Quick To Accept Someone Who Treats You As A Plaything, Not A Person? I Seem To Recall Flowey Warning You About That.

They flinch and swallow hard. “You’re really good at hitting people where it hurts.”

Being A Ruiner: It’s What I Do Best. Something Else I Have In Common With Your “Best Friend.”

Frisk turns their gaze to one side and rests a hand on Chara’s locket.

\---

When Asriel awakens, it’s to a brightly colored world of crayon backgrounds and pencil outlines. He blinks blearily up at a pastel sun smiling as it illuminates the scribbled-in sky. His chin droops, and buildings like tall blocks with square windows fill his view. Around him, a garden sways with yellow flowers, and most of the people he’s ever known chat animatedly among them. It feels off, it feels wrong, but he can’t quite put his paw on what the problem is. Just when he’s about to, his mother notices him and beams as brightly as the artificial sun above.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Toriel chirps affectionately. “My, but you do like to sleep in! But I would not have you any other way, my child.”

“Mom?” he utters, rubbing his eyes. “Mom, what are you doing here?”

“Should she not be here, son?” Asgore says, and Asriel twists around to see his father sitting cross-legged at his back. “You were so looking forward to today.”

Confusion fogs the little prince’s thoughts further. “Today? What’s today?”

“C’mon, little guy! Today’s coronation day!!” Undyne declares, grinning hugely with all teeth. “You’re becoming the King of All Monsters! We were all lookin’ forward to it!”

Asriel sways upright. The world spins momentarily. “Y-you were?”

“Of course!!” Papyrus declares, bouncing up at down. “I can’t wait for my best friend to take the throne! I’m so excited for you, Ree-Ree!!!”

The sense of wrongness intensifies. “Your... best friend?”

“I-is something the matter?” Alphys frets, toes folded over themselves. “I-isn’t this what you wanted? To rule over everything?”

It’s starting to come back to him now. Asriel turns around and locks eyes with a squat skeleton. One look, and it hits him: “Where’s Chara? Where’s Frisk?”

Sans smiles the same way he smiles at everything and everyone. He chuckles a little; then his sockets go dark: “You know what’s going on here, don’t you?”

“Th-this is just an illusion!” Asriel shouts, clenching his paws. Confidence surges along with certainty: “The Player just made you all up to distract me from what _really_ matters!”

“Of course she did, friend!” a familiar voice chirps.

Asriel looks down, and that confidence instantly swaps with dread.

Flowey smiles back up at him. “After all, everyone here...” His merry mien morphs into a macabre mask. “Y o u a l r e a d y K I L L E D t h e m . R e m e m b e r ?”

He can feel himself blanch, all semblance of color draining from the very core of his being. He staggers back a step, jaw working soundlessly. He can’t deny it. He knows it’s the truth. After all, until a few moments ago, their SOULs were all one with him.

Even so, he jerks his head over to the illusion of his mother, beseeching. Immediately, he regrets it. Her red eyes have sunken in the sockets of her head while half her head sloughs off like a pile of dust.

“How many times have you killed me, my son?” she moans, shambling forward a step before her legs, too, crumble. “How many times did you laugh when I died?”

“And I, son? I tried my hardest to help you,” Asgore groans, reaching out for him with an arm breaking apart like poorly-baked clay. “Was it my fault that I could not? Is that why?”

Asriel shrieks as he shrinks back from both of them. He nearly bumps into Alphys on the way, and screams again as he wheels away.

“I-it was _my_ fault,” Alphys stammers, shrinking in on herself--literally. Shadows swallow her up as she approaches. “If only I’d n-never brought you b-back. What a m-mistake...”

“Hey! Your parents LOVED you, you little punk,” Undyne snarls at the same time, body shimmering like a heat haze. “All your subjects did! Weren’t _we_ good enough for ya?!”

They’re all coming closer. Asriel lets out a distressed moan and hunches in on himself. Turning around, he meet’s Papyrus’s eye sockets--but without having to lift his head.

“I wish I could have been a better friend to you,” Papyrus says sadly from where he carries his own skull. “I wish I could have been great enough to balm your yearning for Chara.”

“Forget it. Nothing could’ve. Even Frisk was just a placeholder, right?” Sans says, empty sockets burning. “You always managed to dodge final judgment, _kid_ , but now your time is up.”

“Stop it!!” he screams, grabbing the locket around his neck. “I--I didn’t have a choice! I couldn’t feel _anything_! I just wanted to be me again! I _had_ to do what I did!”

“Let’s not fool ourselves, Asriel,” says Flowey, expressionless. “You didn’t _have_ to kill everyone. You didn’t _have_ to team up with the Player. And even if you did, you could’ve broken the barrier and let everyone go. You had that power.” He smiles, or at least, his mouth turns up. “You only didn’t because you didn’t want to share.” His mouth stretches into a grotesque leer as his eyes turn black. “And now you’re going to have to face the consequences.”

In one motion, the six monsters dive for Asriel, and in desperation, he jumps. Higher and longer than he would ever be capable of in real life, he cycles his feet in slow motion as the other monsters all collide and leave a pit of dust at his feet. Flowey remains at the edge with the swaying buttercups, and for a moment Asriel doesn’t understand... until he falls and lands and his legs sink all the way into the quicksand-like pit. With a yelp, he flails for the edge, one hand stretching out for Flowey’s stem. Before he can reach, though, arms stretch languidly up from the dusty pit--furry paws, scaly claws, bony fingers--and grip hold of him. As one, they all begin to pull him down.

\---

When Frisk sees the pastel land below with Asriel at its center turn harsh and gray, their heart leaps into their throat, but they don’t jump out of their chair this time. However, they rub their thumb on the locket’s engraving, which matches the one around Asriel’s neck.

“Is he facing himself, too?” they wonder quietly.

Yes.

They take a deep breath, then two, then three. This might be what Asriel needs, too. Then they’ll have faith, just like they did for Chara. A thought occurs to them, though, and they look back at the Player. “If you faced _your_ self, what would that look like?”

She touches a nub to her now-rectangular mouth. Probably Like A Long Fall Off The Rider-Waite Tower. ...No Reaction? You Don’t Get It? Sigh. Never Mind.

So they don’t mind. With all their SOUL, Frisk silently cheers Asriel on.

\---

Asriel grips the edge of the pit for dear life. He’d shot both hands out so fast he nearly broke the chain of his locket, which instead upended his ears as it whipped over his head. Colorless greenery surround him, with Flowey at the edge, but no matter how hard Asriel tries to pull himself out, he finds he keeps getting dragged deeper in.

“Please! I don’t want to die again!” he gasps, digging his nails into the dirt. “I finally have Chara back! I finally started liking Frisk! This is the last chance I have to be ‘me’ again!”

The hands drag him down another half-inch into the dustbin. The whispers of the monsters he’s killed through countless timelines crawl up his back and into his ears as he strains his arms to keep hold of the edge. He reaches out for Flowey’s stem, which has taken on a strange glassy sheen, but Flowey just gives him a pitying smile.

“You’re not gonna die, idiot,” he tells him. “But you lost all the SOULs you grabbed, remember? You don’t have a single one left.” He bares a fanged grin. “And you know what that means.”

Asriel’s hand trembles even as it stills, and it feels like his entire existence freezes as he stares at his flower self. Down into the dust... or back to life as a SOULless flower. Which is worse?

Flowey’s nasty grin softens. “Here’s the thing,” he says with seemingly uncharacteristic gentleness. “Even if you surround yourself with people you like, you won’t stop being lonely. You won’t stop being depressed. And then you’ll hurt them all over again.”

Asriel’s claws score grooves in the earth as the arms yank him down past his ribs. Tears bite the corners of his eyes.

“Frisk _told_ you. They _told_ you they liked you anyway. And Chara getting mad--that should’ve been a dead giveaway, huh? But that wasn’t good enough, was it,” Flowey continues, more wistful than caustic. “Living life without a SOUL... I’ve had enough of it. I just want to feel like a real person again.”

Asriel’s claws slip again. The arms grip his shoulders and pull him down to his armpits. The stale, acrid smell of dust overpowers his nose.

“But we messed that up too,” Flowey concludes, glancing away, smile gone. “None of us are the same anymore. We can never go back to the way things were. I knew it; I just didn’t want to admit it.” He gives Asriel a strained grin; the green of his stem and yellow of his petals seem oddly paler. “All that’s left now is to fall back into despair.”

Asriel’s shoulders begin to sink into the pool of dust. The air is so full of it, every breath is a labor. Tears streak down his fur, and he nearly lets himself get dragged down all in one go.

“Then... then maybe it’s better if I’m alone,” he murmurs. “You’re right. I’ll just keep hurting people if I stay around them.” Asriel smiles back, forlorn. “I think, all this time, I didn’t really know what I wanted. But... I know I don’t want to go back to being ‘Flowey.’ I’ve hurt enough people who didn’t deserve to be hurt. I refuse to do that anymore.” His smile fades. “And if I have to be alone forever to make sure that happens... th-then okay. That’s what I’ll do.”

“Haha... Of course you wouldn’t want to be me. _I_ don’t want to be me.” Flowey hangs his head, outline translucent. “Eternal solitude... we deserve that.”

Asriel’s left paw slips from the grass into the dusty quicksand, and the arms pull him down past his shoulders. The right clings to the edge, the gold of his locket glinting in the grass. It won’t be long before the rest of him goes under. “After everything we’ve done, this is our rightful punishment,” he agrees. “The least we can do is stick by it.”

“Yeah... yeah,” Flowey agrees, glancing to one side. The sunlight shines through him. “Maybe if I’d been more like you, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.”

“That’s not true,” Asriel tells him. Dust tickles his chin. “We’re the same person. Your loneliness and jealousy and emptiness are mine, too. It’s time I accepted that.”

Flowey looks back at him. Maybe it’s a trick of the light pouring through him, but his smile almost looks happy. “Thanks,” he says, faint and distant as he vanishes. _Well... I guess this is it, then. This isn’t good-bye, though._

_Yeah,_ Asriel agrees, clamping his mouth shut and tilting his nose over the encroaching murk. _See you soon... me._

Then he shuts his eyes and holds his breath, and the dust overtakes him.

He can still feel the chain of his locket around his hand. It’s the _only_ thing he can feel now. As he sinks, thoughts of Chara surge through his mind, with Frisk bubbling in to fill the gaps.

_Chara... Frisk... I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you... This is all my fault... I’m so sorry... Please be okay..._ The dust seeps away his tears before he can even shed them. _But... I wish I could see you--just one last time... Chara... Frisk... Chara!!_

But nobody c--

Something grips his wrist.

The breath bursts out of him in surprise. Clumps of dust cotton in his mouth, and it’s all he can do to keep from screaming and letting them all flood into his lungs and snuff out his life for good, whatever his alter ego said about him not actually dying. When that something pulls on his wrist--pulls _up_ , back to the surface--despite his resolution to accept his punishment, Asriel kicks his feet down out of sheer instinct, and the hands fall away.

It’s not fair. He’s being self-centered again. After all that talk about accepting his punishment, he still takes the first chance he can get to sneak out of it. But even so--!

When his head bursts up through the surface, dust sprays everywhere, and Asriel coughs violently as his savior pulls him back onto solid ground. Despite his spasms, Asriel kicks and struggles until his feet follow suit, and then he collapses next to the one who saved him.

“Hey,” Chara croaks, chest heaving. “I came this time.”

\---

Far above, Frisk pumps a fist into the air, jumps and twirls, and lets loose a cry of triumph.

\---

Asriel half-sobs, half-laughs, and throws his arms around them. They hug him back fiercely, and the two of them cry and cough and get their breath back together.

“H-how did you find me?” he rasps.

“I heard you calling,” they reply. “I think I still nearly missed you, but the locket--it was the only thing that had any color.”

A golden heart guided the way. Asriel’s lungs spasm again. Right now, he just feels blue.

When he’s finally calmed down, he sits up, head hanging. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs glumly. “This is all my fault. I ignored what you and Frisk said and did whatever I wanted. I didn’t even have the grace to accept my punishment. It’s so unfair of me...”

Chara sits up with him. “The _real_ punishment is to keep on living. Or d’you think it’s fair to Frisk to leave them all alone?”

Asriel blinks at them. “I... no, but...”

He trails off. Chara leans in, and despite everything, Asriel does the same.

“I know how you feel. I don’t really feel like I deserve another chance, either,” they murmur. “But you know what? We’re both just so messed up, I don’t think we really have a good idea of what we do and don’t deserve anymore.”

“Y-you think so?”

They rest a hand over his paw. He startles back, blushing, and they smile at him as they lift it up. Together, they look down at the locket.

“We get what we get,” they say softly. “I don’t have a SOUL to piggyback on anymore, and neither do you. I don’t know how much longer we’ll last.”

Asriel swallows hard as his pulse picks up.

“But until the end, come what may, I want to be with you, Ree,” they continue. “I want to keep trying to be better for you and Frisk.”

“M-me too,” Asriel stammers. “You were right to be mad at me, Chara. I wanted to be me again so badly, I didn’t care about how you or Frisk felt. I’m sorry...”

“I’m sorry, too,” Chara murmurs. “I didn’t try to understand how bad you were hurting, and when I was hurt, I lashed out as hard as I could. We both messed up. But we can still make up and try again. I’d bet anything that Frisk feels the same way.”

Despite everything, he smiles as he gazes into their eyes. “Chara...”

“But hey,” they add with a wink, “let’s not take my word for it. Why don’t we go see Frisk so you can ask them for yourself?”

Asriel’s mouth purses. He can’t help but observe that the way Chara says that sounds like the way Sans would say it. Was it on purpose? Or... no. No, he needs to stop being so jealous--or at least rein it in. He sighs a little, smiles again, and nods.

Chara squeezes his paw, then draws the locket from him. He blinks at them as they unhook the latch, but when they hold out the chain, he understands. He bows his head and lets them draw it around and latch it shut at the back of his neck. When he looks up, Chara rests their hand over the heart-shaped locket, and he rests his hand over theirs.

Right. Maybe he can’t stop being jealous all at once, but now he’s reassured. No matter who else Chara cares about, they came for him.

And that means everything.

“Let’s go see Frisk,” he says, squeezing their hand back. “Don’t wanna leave ‘em out.”

Chara grins, red eyes tender, and nods. Together, they stagger to their feet, each of them supporting the other. Once the two regain their balance, they both look up to the void where monster SOULs are strewn like stars and begin the journey back to where Frisk awaits.

\---

The floor, once crystal-clear with a perfect view of the struggles of those below, frosts over into an opaque, cloudy gray. Frisk lifts their head, but the same is true in every direction. Truthfully, it still doesn’t look like a floor. It looks like they’re just over the top of a sullen raincloud. They tap one foot against it, and while it feels solid enough, the “clouds” flow and sway away as if disturbed. Although they’re happy that Chara and Asriel have overcome their trials, Frisk knows it’s not quite over yet. A sobering thought.

It’s Almost The Finale. Gosh. It’s Been A Long Time Coming, Hasn’t It? the Player remarks. Feels Like It’s Been Almost A Year. Or At Least Ten Months.

Frisk looks up at her. “You sound wistful.”

Mm? Yeah, I Guess. I’m Not Really Fond Of Fight Scenes.

This seems an odd thing to say, given her part in the previous timeline. “Do we really need to fight?” they ask instead. “I don’t like fighting either. You want to be entertained, right?” They offer a slight smile. “Wouldn’t it be entertaining to see what we all do on the surface?”

Hmm... You Bring Up A Valid Point.

That’s the most heartening thing they’ve ever heard her say. Should they press harder, or should they try to soften her up first? Thinking back to what they heard before they awoke, Frisk offers, “By the way, you have a pretty singing voice.”

The Player pauses. Then she leans back slightly, red mouth a flat line. Oh. You Heard That, Did You.

They nod, but they have a feeling they made a mistake. “It was nice,” they add.

She doesn’t smile. ...Thank You.

“D’you think I’m lying?” they wonder, recognizing the I’m-only-thanking-you-to-avoid-an-argument note in her tone. That she might feel that way is puzzling in and of itself, though--why would she care? “I’m not. Just so you know.”

She makes a small, breathy noise, tilting her head to one side. Oh, It’s Not That. I Just Don’t Do Well With Compliments. They Always Feel Insincere.

Frisk considers this. If that’s the case, then... “Is there any more of that song?”

...Yyyyes...

“Could you sing more of it for me, please? I’d like to hear the rest.”

I--Well, I, Uh... I-I Don’t Know, It’s Not Like It’s Any Good--

She’s getting flustered. She’s getting _flustered_. “I don’t care,” they press. “I still liked it. Is it from something?”

I, Uh--N-No, I Composed It Myself...

“Really? Just now?”

...No. It’s From A Long Time Ago. Back When I Was A Little Older Than You. I Only Remember Two Or Three Verses Anymore.

“Really? You were that young?” They think back to what they heard: _Thus I could avoid this cruel, empty world._ Their back stiffens in realization. “Oh. _Oh_. You’re like me and Chara,” they whisper. “You didn’t come here just for a distraction. You came here because there was something you wanted to get away from.”

She doesn’t reply.

All the same, Frisk feels instinctively that they’re right--that the Player came to their world to escape from something. What that is, they don’t know, but it suddenly feels natural that the Player’s form should be so fathomlessly dark. “Um... If you want to talk about it... I’m willing to listen,” they offer. “No one should have to suffer alone.”

She bows, form shaking. At first, Frisk thinks she’s laughing at them like usual. It comes as an immense shock when scarlet tears leak onto the white table.

Weren’t You Listening? I Can’t Trust It. It’s Meaningless. Talking To You Is No Better Than Talking To Myself. I Don’t Even Know What To Tell You. And Even If I Could String The Words Together, No One Wants To Hear My Stupid, Worthless, Self-Absorbed Whining.

Her quiet vehemence makes them rock back in their chair. They’ve never seen this side of her before, and they don’t know how to pick apart the contradiction in her words. “It’s just us, though,” they try again, as gentle as they can. They extend their hand to her, but somehow they can’t reach. “It’s okay; I don’t mind, honest. I’m a good listener.”

It’s No Good. Nothing I Do Is Any Good. I’m A Worthless Screw-Up. Is That What You Wanted To Hear? I’m Sure It Wasn’t! And Even If It Really Didn’t Bother You, It Doesn’t Matter, Because Reality Will Never Change! _I’m Alone!_ I’m Alone, And I’m Better Off Alone! Better I Be Consigned To Oblivion Than Inflict Myself On Anyone Else!

“Then why did you come here?”

Why? Why _Did_ I Come Here? I Don’t Know Anymore. This Was A Bad Decision. Of Course It Was, I’m The Queen Of Bad Decisions! She laughs, choked with despair. What’s It Matter, Though? All Of This Is Fake, Anyway!

“That’s not true! The journeys I’ve been through with Chara, the monsters we’ve befriended, everything that everyone’s been through--it was real! All the tears we’ve cried and laughs we laughed were real!” they insist. “You’ve been through all of them with us the whole way, so you should know that better than anyone!”

True, she concedes, settling down somewhat. In A Lot Of Vital Ways, You’re Realer Than Real. And Yet You’re Not. But It’s Not Your Fault. I’ve Never Belonged Anywhere. I Always Felt Disconnected, As If I Existed Behind An Invisible Wall. But That Doesn’t Matter. I’m Just Whining, Anyway.

They purse their lips. “Why do you hate your own feelings so much?”

Because They’re Awful. _I’m_ Awful! I’ve Known It For Years! Why Pretend Otherwise?!

“That’s not true, either!” they persist. “Or it doesn’t have to be. You’ve done a lot of terrible things, but you can still turn yourself and all this around!” They clench a fist in impassioned determination. “You have the power to break the barrier. You bonded yourself to it, so I’m sure you can erase it. If we work together, I’m sure we can use the power of the SOULs to save everyone else. Once everyone’s back--” They rise to their feet and smack their palms flat on the table. “I’ll stick up for you! I won’t let you be alone, I promise!”

She snorts and laughs again, hard and bitter. Oh My God, Are You Offering Me A Redemption Arc? Frisk, I Can’t With You. You’re Too Precious.

Their fire fades, and they sit back down. “Please don’t talk down to me.”

Her chuckle chokes and dies. Ahhh. That _Was_ Pretty Condescending. But It’s True You’re Naïve. She pauses, then shrinks in on herself. Don’t Get Me Wrong; Your Offer Is Sweet, she murmurs. But Do You Really Think Chara And Asriel Will Agree With, Let Alone Honor It? You’re Setting Yourself Up To Be Put In The Middle Again.

That stings like a slap to the face. “I...”

It’s Okay. I Know You Just Want Peace. It’s An Admirable Desire. Her wobbly eye and forced smile dim. But It’s Only Natural To Hate Someone Who’s Hurt You.

Frisk is silent at that. They’re still getting to know Asriel in a lot of fundamental ways, but they know Chara well, and they’re pretty sure the Player is right. Chara won’t forgive her, and may never forgive her. Their feelings on that are mixed.

“I just... I don’t want to have to fight anyone anymore,” they say in a small voice.

Frisk... Her eye slopes down, and her mouth thins. It’s Okay. I’m Tired, Too.

Her tone is so gentle, Frisk finds themself soothed. They look up at her, daring to hope. Maybe they can still come to an accord. They reach out again to her, hand outstretched.

Her eye flickers. Maybe... she murmurs. Maybe It’s Time To Put All This To An End.

The ice water of anxiety floods Frisk’s chest.

Something twitches in the corner of their vision, and they jump, startled. Taking a deep breath to calm themself, they turn around, but see nothing. When they look back, symbols crawl along the white lattice of the table, blinking in and out of existence one by one. They look familiar. They look like...

Oh Boy, the Player groans. In a blink, she’s her old self again. How does she just turn that off? Was she messing with them this whole time? They peer at her, dismayed. They can’t tell if they understand her intimately well, or not at all.

Looks Like _Some_ one’s A Sore Loser, she continues. Frisk, Press Pause On That Thought, Wouldja? I’ll Be Right Back.

And before they can even think to articulate a protest, the Player is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes thematic inspiration from _Persona 4_ and _Mawaru-Penguindrum_.
> 
> "Probably Like A Long Fall Off The Rider-Waite Tower." The Player is referring to the Tower, one of the Major Arcana in a given deck of tarot cards. The Rider-Waite tarot deck is one of the most popular tarot decks in use today in the English-speaking world.


	40. There's Nothing Anyone Can Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -Player- continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is later than I said it would be; it needed a lot more revisions than I thought, and I'm still not quite happy with it... The next two chapters are OK though, so they should post a lot sooner.

Frisk rubs their shoulders and looks around again nervously. The Player is nowhere to be seen; there wasn’t even a cool fade-out sequence. Yet, when they look back at the seat opposite them, it’s occupied again.

By Gaster.

They yelp and nearly fall over. Gaster’s one good eye widens in alarm and he holds out one perforated hand palm-flat; Frisk manages to grab the edge of the table and right themself before they end up on the ground. Or what passes for the ground, anyway.

“Y-you startled me,” they stammer.

He bows his head, perhaps in apology.

“U-um. Um. Where’s the Player?” Frisk asks, seizing hold of their first thought.

Gaster’s mouth curves up at the ends, and he holds up a finger in front of it as if to hush them. The intended meaning dawns on them a moment later.

“You distracted her?” they wonder, lowering their voice.

He nods.

“Are you here to help me?”

He nods again.

_Oh thank god,_ Frisk thinks, relaxing. They know, thanks to Chara, that Gaster hadn’t _meant_ to separate them from their body, but it was still a fright to see him again. 

“Listen,” they begin. “If someone’s in pain, but they won’t listen to you no matter what you say, what can you do for them?”

Gaster meets their eyes, frown slightly parted. Then he bows his head and shrugs expansively. That’s a question with an answer too broad to be given glibly, even if he had one to give at all, the gesture seems to convey. He holds up a finger. But-- He taps the side of his head, makes an odd jabbing gesture like someone stabbing a knife, then crosses his arms in an X over his chest and slowly shakes his head. The meaning of this is opaque to Frisk, and they screw their face up as they puzzle over it. Then, in a flash of insight, they recognize the stabs as a callback to Chara, and suddenly they get it: You can’t force help on someone who doesn’t want it.

Does she really not, though...? Something about that makes Frisk uneasy. It’s true she’s been condescending, coercive, and corruptive, but... something about her reminds them of themself, of Chara, of Asriel. None of them seem to be able to plainly ask for help, either. Is it right to stop trying? Is it right to help someone at the expense of one’s other friends? If it were Asriel--if it were Chara--would they still be wavering like this? They don’t know.

“That’s right,” they utter, lifting their head. “Mr. Gaster--sorry, Dr. Gaster--if I can’t convince the Player, is there another way to help everyone else, at least?” They point up at the star clusters of monster SOULs. “Their SOULs still exist, so they’re still alive. Right? And if Asriel could make a new body for Chara...”

Gaster’s slow head-shake cuts them off, and they lower their hand and their face. He sweeps a perforated hand across the many, many SOULs, then points at them and gestures fluidly in a circle that he then presses back towards himself. Then he mimics an explosion by flicking his bony fingers outward. Frisk understands this, much as they don’t want to. It wasn’t “Asriel” but “the God of Hyperdeath” who had the power to help recreate Chara’s body. Without all the SOULs together, he can’t do that.

“Then what can I do?” they wonder, unable to help a little frustration. “I don’t just mean with dealing with the Player. I remember what it was like to not have a body. Before Papyrus got that jar thing for me, it was so hard to remember who I was. If they all forget themselves, too, how can I possibly save them?”

Gaster taps the side of his head.

Frisk blinks. Then they gasp. “You mean, _remind_ them?”

He nods.

“But how can I even get to them? They’re so far away, it’s like they’re lost...”

He nods again. Frisk, on the other hand, trails off.

They’re lost?

Then, in that case...

“Dr. Gaster,” they say, drawing their shoulders up. “Could I get your opinion on something, please?”

He folds his hands on the edge of the table and leans forward slightly. He’s listening.

They lean forward too, to give it that just-right conspiratorial air, and murmur to him what they have in mind. He listens without interruption, with the occasional nod. At last, they lean back, hands on the table for balance.

“Well? Do you think it’ll work?” they murmur.

He holds his chin in thought, then meets their gaze with a thoughtful look. He doesn’t frown, but he doesn’t smile; he doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t shake his head. All the same, there is a flicker of something like hope there. Then, it’s worth a shot.

“Thank you,” they say. “Then... will you help me out with it?”

He blinks once, head jerking up, clearly startled. They explain what else they have in mind. For most of it, he looks somewhere between taken aback and hesitant. By the time they’re done, he’s turned pensive.

“I don’t think anyone _but_ you could do it,” they add. “Unless I misunderstand...”

He smiles, a small, morose thing; all the same, he nods. Frisk smiles in relief, then calls out their SOUL and offers their hand to him. When it emerges, it bathes both of them with a ruddy glow. Gaster’s smile creeps a little wider, and he shakes their hand.

“Thank you. I really appreciate your help,” Frisk says when they pull apart. “I’ll keep trying on my end, but just in case--”

Like static on silly putty, Gaster’s form twists and fuzzes for an instant. Alarm colors his pale face for a second. Then it happens again, this time ending with his form breaking into a million little shards. Frisk yelps, hooking an arm over their face and SOUL. When they look again, the Player has taken his place.

She looks annoyed.

Talking Behind My Back, Were You? she snipes. Not That It Matters. If You’re Feeling Lonely, You’ll Be Happy To Know Chara and Ree-Ree Are Almost Here.

Frisk gets to their feet. “We weren’t trying to. Is Gaster okay?”

You Really Should Focus On What _Really_ Matters, Frisk. Or Do Your Friends Just Not Matter That Much To You?

They frown. “They’re _all_ my friends.”

Well Then, Since You Want To Know That Badly, I Just Split Him Up A Little. He Can Reconstruct Himself No Problem, More Or Less, Since He’s Already Been Blasted To Bits Before. She waggles a nub. But That Takes Care Of Whatever Little Plot You Two Were Cooking Up Together.

“We weren’t plotting anything,” Frisk insists. “I just wanted his help with something--”

\--In Case You Couldn’t Wheedle Me Into Giving Back Your World Nicely?

Well... technically, yes, but still. “In case I couldn’t help you,” they counter quietly. “I still haven’t given up on you, you know.”

Oh, Don’t Worry, You Will. _I’ve_ Given Up On Me, So It’s Inevitable.

“We’ll see about that.” Though, that being said, they do wish there wasn’t so much that’s out of their control. They pause. “When are Chara and Asriel getting here?”

She looks to one side, and Frisk follows her gaze to see two bodies coming into view as if climbing up a flight of stairs. A smile spreads across their face, and they abandon the table to race over to their friends. Asriel and Chara, supporting each other as they make their way up, look up and grin back to see them. Each of them holds their arms out, and a moment later, they all come together in a ferocious group hug.

“Sorry we kept you waiting, Frisk,” Chara murmurs.

“It’s okay. I could see both of you from where I was,” Frisk murmurs back. “I’m so glad you’re both all right.”

“Um... Frisk...” Asriel hesitates, then blurts out, “I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you or Chara. I know I’m making excuses, but I was just so worried about what would happen if I didn’t have a SOUL, if I’d stop liking either of you or you’d both stop liking me, and I convinced myself I had to do whatever it took to not lose you two, and that turned into doing everything it took... If you can’t forgive me, I-I understand.”

Frisk and Chara exchange a glance as Asriel bows his head. Then, as one, they both lean in to kiss him on either cheek. He squeaks and jerks up.

“I forgive you,” Chara reassures him. “You forgave me, after all.”

“Just please listen to us from now on, okay?” Frisk adds gently. 

Asriel’s nose turns pink, and a relieved smile crinkles his face. “O-okay! I will!”

The floor seems to move then, and the three yelp and gasp and stagger as the clouds re-center and the stairwell vanishes into nothing. They clutch each other, and soon the swirling evens out, leaving the trio near the center, an equal distance away from the Player, who floats in midair, watching them. The table set is gone too, and the monster SOULs above sparkle brightly.

Figured I’d Save You A Trip, she says, somewhat nonsensically.

Frisk squeezes Asriel and Chara’s hands, looking over their shoulder at her. “I’ve been trying to talk her down. I haven’t had a lot of luck so far, but I want to keep trying,” they whisper. “What about you two? Do you want to fight...?”

Chara squeezes their hand back, at first painfully before easing up. “Yes,” they whisper back. “So bad. So bad. I won’t deny it. But I told you ages ago: we’ll do it your way this time.” They meet Frisk’s eyes and give them a grim smile. “So lead the way.”

“I’ll do what I can to support you, too,” Asriel agrees, nodding. He rubs the back of his neck, bashful, then reaches out to take Chara’s hand and complete the circle. “Helping you deal with her on your terms is the least I can do after everything I put you through.”

Frisk smiles, tears beading at the corners of their eyes, and nods. They take a deep breath and turn around to face the Player, only to pause when Chara clasps their shoulder.

“Here,” they say, holding out their trowel. “I know you won’t need it, but I want you to have it anyway.”

“Then let me give this back to you--” Frisk unclasps the locket, then trades it for the trowel.

“Wait--you’ll need something to protect you,” Asriel protests. “If you’re giving theirs back, then use mine.” He pulls his locket over his head and offers it to Frisk. When they both give him a startled look, he offers Chara a small smile. “Chara and I can share.”

“...Okay. Thank you,” Frisk replies, letting him put the necklace over their head. Then they look again to the Player, with Asriel’s locket over their heart and Chara’s trowel in hand.

Mmm, This Definitely Has A Final Boss Kind Of Feel To It, Huh? the Player remarks, pressing a nub to her lack of chin. I Don’t Really Feel Like Attacking Just Yet, Though. So Go Ahead: Try To Talk Me Down.

Frisk takes another deep breath, but doesn’t look behind them; they can feel their beloved friends at their back. “Then... let me ask you something, please,” they call. “I’ve been wondering this for ages, and now that Chara’s here, I want to hear it straight from you.”

Yeah?

“Chara told me that you left it up to them to reset the last timeline. Is that true?”

Oh, Yeah, That’s True.

Behind them, Chara sucks in a sharp breath, and Asriel mutters something inquisitive-sounding that they can’t quite make out. Frisk focuses and continues, “If you’d been a little more determined, you might’ve killed Sans.”

Maybe.

“Why didn’t you?”

Because I Have A Specific Goal Here. Killing Sans At That Point Wasn’t Part Of It.

“What _is_ your goal, then?” Chara demands.

I... She cants her head. The clouds below darken; the monster SOULs sparkle like knives in the starlight. I Don’t Really Believe In Love, Or Family, Or Friendship. But I’d Like To. She stares at Frisk, Asriel, and Chara in turn. I’d Like To Believe That There’s Such A Thing As Unconditional Love--As People Who’ll Care For You No Matter How Awful You Are.

Frisk sucks in a breath and wobbles as if about to take a step.

But There Isn’t. Everyone Has Their Limit On What They’ll Tolerate. Pass That Threshold, And They’ll Leave You. Reject You. Revile You.

Asriel flinches and averts his eyes.

It’s Only Natural, Though. Actually, It’s A Good Thing! Why Should Anyone Have To Put Up With Someone As Selfish And Wretched As Me? If Anyone Knew The Real Me, They’d Hate Me For Sure. _I_ Do.

Chara’s jaw and fists clench.

So I Don’t Try To Be Good Here, she concludes. It’s So _Satisfying_ To Be The Villain. It’s Liberating! You Can Be As Vile As You Are At Heart, Because You’re _Supposed_ To Be Hated.

“Isn’t that lonely?” Frisk pleads as Chara and Asriel share a discomfited glance.

Oh, Yeah. It’s Super-Lonely. But Then I Remember I’m Not Meant To Be Around Other People, So It Works Out.

Voice shaking, Chara demands, “So you came to _our_ world to force your awfulness on us because no one in your _own_ world will put up with you? How is _that_ fair?”

Mmm... It’s Less That No One Will Put Up With Me And More I Couldn’t Handle The Stress Of Feigning Decency Anymore. She tilts her head the other way. I Doubt That Makes You Feel Better.

“Is there anything that’ll satisfy you?” Asriel asks. “You said you wanted to see something interesting, but--” He gestures around them. “Isn’t this just stagnant?”

Yes, Because You Made It That Way, she replies pointedly. You Aren’t Wrong, Though. Honestly, I’ve Grown Exhausted Of All This. Or More Accurately, The Emptiness Is Encroaching Again? You Know What I Mean, Ree-Ree.

“I _do_ know what you mean,” he agrees quietly. “So trust me when I tell you: what you’re doing won’t help.”

Yeah... I Know. Her head tilts further. This Is All Just A Temporary Balm. You Can’t Stave Off The Emptiness Forever.

“So then get lost,” Chara says curtly. “You aren’t wanted anymore. You never were.”

She laughs at that, cold and cutting. Never Were? Now That’s A Lie If I Ever Heard One, Chara. You Were The One Who Called To Me--Just Like How I Called To You.

“--What?” they utter. Asriel and Frisk both turn to them in surprise.

Surely You Haven’t Forgotten? Or Maybe You Just Don’t Want To Remember. After All, We Were Partners, For A Time.

“That was a long time ago,” they reply icily, edging back behind Frisk.

Was It Really? She pauses, seeming to consider this; then she adds, Well, I Guess It Would Seem Like It To You. You’ve Really Turned Yourself Around. And It’s All Thanks To Me! When they glare at her but don’t respond, she adds, “Let Us End This Pointless World And Move On To The Next”--Those Are The Words I Never Allowed You To Say To Me.

This time, Chara furrows their brows, frown now uneasy. It was true that that would have been their logical last goal had they killed Sans, but... how would she know that? Asriel glances at them sidelong, then takes a step towards the Player.

“I’ve had this hunch for a while now,” he says. “You already knew exactly how the last timeline was going to end, didn’t you?”

Ahh. I Was Wondering When You’d Call Me On That.

“Wait, what?” Chara and Frisk utter in unison.

“It was a lot of little things that seemed out of place. They got explained away individually at the time, but now I get it,” Asriel explains for their benefit. “You watched how everything unfolded before ever doing anything yourself, didn’t you?”

Bingo! That’s Exactly How It Went. Of Course, Watching Something Happen And Doing It Yourself Are Two Different Beasts. Boy, Was Killing Everyone Ever A Boring Slog.

“Then why?” Chara rasps, nails digging into their palms. “Why didn’t you just _give up_?”

I _Did_ Give Up. Remember? We Never Made It Past Sans.

“You said you _let_ me reset that timeline! That was _my_ choice!”

She smiles. Yes. It Was. And Then It Was Your Choice To Make Amends And Cooperate With Frisk.

“Was that what you wanted to happen?” Frisk wonders slowly.

She looks at Frisk and doesn’t respond.

“If you wanted Chara to help me and choose nonviolence... why didn’t you encourage them to do that in the first place?” they persist. “You already knew what would happen, so why didn’t you start out with us befriending everyone?”

Mmm... She tilts her head again. Why Was It, Again? It Seemed Like A Clever Idea At The Time.

“You just don’t want to say,” Chara accuses her.

Oh? Maybe You’re Just Asking The Wrong Questions. She cricks her neck, then peers at the trio. But Really, Like I Said, I Don’t Care Anymore. I Just Want This To Be Over With.

“It isn’t over yet,” Frisk promises. “I don’t want to fight you, but we _won’t_ let you leave our world like this. If you refuse to listen no matter what, we still have things we can do.”

You Mean Your Little Plot With Gaster? Word To The Wise: I Wouldn’t Rely On Him Too Much. He’s Not Even The Real Gaster.

“What?” they utter, echoed by their companions.

The “Real” Gaster’s Whereabouts Are Unknown. Nobody Actually Knows What Kind Of Person He Is, So He’s Impossible To Pin Down. The One You Met? He’s Merely A “Possibility.” I Called To Him, Just As I Was Called Here Myself.

Chara presses a hand to their mouth.

Frisk pauses. “ _You_ called him?”

Yup.

“This is a specific ‘possibility’ or variation on Gaster. And you called him?”

She spreads her nubs and shrugs. Sure. Mind, Chances Are Excellent His True Nature Will Come To Light Eventually, Pun Intended. We’ll See Then Just How Off This “Possibility” Was. But That’s Not The Point. The Point Is You Can’t Rely On Him To SAVE You.

The sea of SOULs glitters brighter than ever. Frisk wills themself not to look at them directly. “I wasn’t going to. You said so yourself: we’re going to SAVE ourselves.”

Then Why Don’t You Show Me What You’ve Got? I’ve Gotten Bored Of Talking. She thrusts out an arm, and the six human SOULs materialize in a circle around her while a wave of faint light pulses through the dark space. Since I Know You Don’t Want To Fight, I’ll Even Sweeten The Deal: If You Beat Me, I’ll Give You Something Nice.

“Like what?” they wonder warily.

You’ll Know It When You See It. Now. Let’s Settle This.

Frisk’s SOUL emerges in response to the threat, and they can feel it beating wildly--or maybe that’s just their imagination. Even so, they look over their shoulder at Chara and Asriel. “Can you two talk to the monster SOULs for me?” they murmur.

“ _Talk_ to them?” Asriel echoes.

“And say what?” Chara asks.

“Just remind them who they are if they need it, and let them know it’ll be okay. It’s pretty scary, to not have a body,” Frisk replies. They smile. “You know?”

The two share a glance. Then they both smile too.

“True,” says Chara.

“Just leave it to us,” says Asriel.

Heartened, Frisk turns back to the Player and steps forward, aglow in the light of their own SOUL. “I still don’t want to fight you,” they say.

That’s Nice, the Player replies, gesturing sharply towards herself.

As if yanked by the collar, Frisk stumbles forward, staggering several steps before they fall over their own feet. They hear their friends shouting at their back, but they lift a hand and wave their concerns off. Asriel and Chara have their own thing they need to do.

All the same, Chara nearly breaks into a sprint to go to Frisk’s side. Asriel grabs them by the wrist, and when they glare at him, he shakes his head.

“The SOULs, remember?” he says, knowing full well they remember.

They breathe out a frustrated sigh, glance back at Frisk, then nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The two turn to stand back-to-back as the silver SOULs float closer and closer, led by six in particular. Does the Player not notice, or does she simply not care? Either way, neither is in a hurry to point it out. Once the hearts are close enough, Chara and Asriel realize that a small black-and-white, staticky blur is guiding them. Before either of them can wonder what that’s about, though, the SOULs come to a stop.

They glance at each other, then back at the SOULs.

“Mom?” Asriel wonders.

“Asgore?” Chara calls.

Two of the closest six SOULs take familiar form--Toriel and Asgore, though their heads are blurred and blocky, like a censor bar made of static, not unlike the figure that brought them all here.

‘Do as I say. I know what is best for you,’ the lost SOUL that is Toriel says.

‘I am sorry. My kingdom is depending on me,’ adds the lost SOUL that is Asgore.

Having a heart-to-heart conversation is no small feat when one lacks a SOUL. Nonetheless, each of them approaches the one they called, dancing and twirling in between the waves of magic fire the SOULs emit.

“Mom... You _did_ save a child, you know,” says Asriel, attempting a smile. “Frisk is really great. They even got through to me. And it’s all thanks to you healing them in time.”

“Hey, so... remember that sweater, Mr. Dad Guy?” Chara says awkwardly. “I was scared of you at first because you were so big, but you were kinder to me than anyone...”

The lost SOULs hesitate, yearning and loneliness in the tremble of their fingers. But then: ‘I have lost too many children already,’ insists Lost Toriel. ‘It is too late. This is the only thing left that I can do,’ laments Lost Asgore. When their hands sweep the air, sending out chains of flame, it’s easy for the children to slip between the links.

“Frisk’s still fighting,” Asriel insists to Lost Toriel. “I want to help them--don’t you?”

“It turns out Ree’s here after all,” Chara tells Lost Asgore. “We were both mistaken.”

The royal SOULs struggle against themselves, and for a moment, Chara and Asriel worry that it wasn’t enough, that their acts of mercy are no good. Then, all of a sudden, light flashes in the SOULS, and the static clears away in a rush of memories.

“My son,” Toriel chokes, clasping Asriel’s hands. “I swear you will no longer be alone.”

“You always were a wise child,” Asgore rumbles, tousing Chara’s hair. “Good luck.”

Both pairs share a hug: Asriel jumps up to link his arms around Toriel’s shoulders and Toriel catches and squeezes him back; Chara buries their face in Asgore’s torso, and Asgore rests gentle hands on their back to comfort them. Then the SOULs, no longer lost, return to being SOULs and move with seeming purpose back to the sea. New SOULS to guide float forward.

“I guess now at least we have a clue what we’re doing,” Asriel remarks to Chara.

“You? Have a clue? That’s news to me,” Chara cracks. Asriel elbows them, and they both laugh together. “You probably have something you wanna say to Alphys, huh?” they add. “I’ve got something I wanna say to Undyne, myself.”

He nods, and once again the two children reach out to a pair of lost SOULs.

‘Death to the humans!!’ snarls Lost Undyne, hurling a volley of spears.

‘I-I can’t tell anyone the truth,’ stammers Lost Alphys, electricity crawling outward.

“I know how you feel, Undyne,” Chara says, grabbing a spear and using it to shield themself from the rest. “That’s why I thought you were cool. But I can’t let you hurt Frisk.”

“You know, being a flower was awful in a lot of ways. But if you hadn’t brought me back, I’d never have met Frisk or reunited with Chara,” Asriel says, ducking around the jolts.

‘Get in my way, human, and you’re DEAD!’ howls Lost Undyne, even as her next throw comes in slower. ‘I have to hide. I have to lie,’ pleads Lost Alphys, even as she stands up straighter. Spears rain down, up, right, and left, while tiny robots drop a hailstorm of bombs.

“I’m already dead. You’ll have to do better than that,” Chara taunts, swinging away. “Then again, you couldn’t even beat Frisk, and they’re a total goody-two-shoes!”

“And I get it. I couldn’t stand being pitied, so I hid and lied, too,” Asriel continues, shielding his face from the blasts. “But for what you did for me? I’m grateful. Honest.”

The lost SOULs hesitate, hands twitching; then the static bursts away, revealing Undyne’s huge grin and Alphys’s relieved smile.

“You little punk! But I like that attitude!” Undyne cheers. “Between you and that goody-two-shoes, I guess some humans are all right!”

“Th-thank you. I’m still s-sorry I made you suffer, but you’re right. We can’t give up j-just because of our mistakes,” Alphys asserts.

Then they, too, revert to their SOUL forms and return to the sea of SOULs. From here, Chara and Asriel can see that there’s a distinct difference between some and others; most have a distinct tarnish to them, but some, in increasing numbers, shine bright like platinum. The shine spreads outward from the royal SOULs and the blur of static. There’s no time to ponder the reason for this, though, as the last two major SOULs drift forward.

‘I must capture a human!! Then I can finally make friends!’ shouts Lost Papyrus. ‘Give up. I did,’ mumbles Lost Sans. Bones move through the lack-of-ground at varying speeds, up and down, while other bones provide platforms above. Asriel and Chara both jump for the platforms to avoid the attacks beneath.

“I never could bring myself to say it, but I always thought you were really cool, Papyrus,” says Asriel, smiling at the taller skeleton. “You were a better friend to me than I deserved.”

“Wow, this brings back unpleasant memories,” Chara remarks, moving from platform to platform. “That fight we had was really a- _bone_ -inable.”

‘The fame! The glory! The popularity!! It’s so close I can taste it!’ yells Lost Papyrus, stomping both feet as if irritated by the pun, or else jumping giddily at the prospect of a friend. ‘You’ll never see them again,’ Lost Sans intones, shoulders shaking as if holding back a laugh, either at the bad joke or in joyous commiseration with his brother. The waves of bones slow and circle outward, and the two children jump down to land in the safety of the center.

Asriel, swallowing a groan at Chara’s pun, tells the lost SOUL, “I’ve done a lot of cruel things to you--some you don’t even remember. I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

“Me, I’m doing what I can to make up for what I’ve done,” Chara adds. “And I’ll keep thinking about what I can do. It’s not much, but I hope it counts for something.”

The lost SOULs vibrate for a second, before the tall one’s memories flood back, dispersing the static; seeing him remember, the short one’s memories return too.

“Of course I forgive you!!! You’re my best friend!” Papyrus declares brightly.

“Told you you’re not as bad as you think you are,” Sans says with a wink.

Asriel and Chara exchange a relieved laugh and clasp each other’s hands as the last two SOULs return. It’s only then that their respective exhaustion catches up to them, and the two sink to their knees and collapse against each other.

“I... don’t know how long I’ll last,” Chara whispers, breath labored. “I’m sorry, Ree.”

“It’s okay. We did our best,” Asriel murmurs, panting. “I won’t forget this time, Chara.”

With what strength remains, they turn to watch over Frisk’s struggle against the Player.

\---

Frisk drops to their hands and knees, sweat and hints of tears streaking down the sides of their face as they gasp for breath. Their SOUL pulses, and so too do the other human SOULs, all of them in sync. The Player’s attacks had done little actual harm, physically speaking, but what they lacked in bodily pain, they more than made up for in psychological damage. The way the Player had made them move back and forth, up and down, around in a circle, all while Frisk couldn’t control their limbs... They felt like little better than a puppet, a thing to be moved at someone else’s uncaring whim. Now that the Player has given them some respite, they find they _still_ can’t move, save to shake with horrible memories.

But even so, they can’t give up. They’ll make it through this.

You Get It Now, Right? the Player says, sounding disinterested. How Do You Intend To Beat Someone Who Can Control Your Every Action?

Panting, Frisk takes this opportunity to get a few seconds of rest in; then they lift their head, their face a stubborn mask. “You’re not more determined than me. So I’ll figure something out,” they reply. “I just need to keep trying and wait for my chance.”

You’re Probably Right About The Determination Thing, the Player concedes. Maybe I’ll Leave Like You All Want. Do You Think You’ll All Stay Stuck Here Forever If I Do? Or Do You Think You’ll Just Lose All Your Progress Instead?

“Neither,” replies Frisk, reaching through their SOUL to the next one in the link. “You can’t scare me with those kinds of threats!”

And they feel it--the essence of the orange SOUL child, whose name is lost to the ages. They remember the battle against Omega Flowey, how at first the SOUL had harmed them, then soon helped them. That bravery courses into Frisk, and with it feelings of being lost and afraid, of wanting to go home but having no home to go to, of going forward because there’s no more going back. Frisk relates, and so does the SOUL, and their empathy resonates with each other.

Ah. I See What You’re Doing Now, the Player observes. Trying To Take Control On Your Own, Are You. Whatever. It Won’t Do You Any Good.

She beckons to them, and their feet move forward. Frisk fights as hard as they can, but they can’t do a thing--until they’re about a yard away, and finally they make their foot scuff and trip over themself.

“Maybe,” they pant. “But I still have to try. As long as you’re trying to hurt people, I can’t just let you have your way!”

So, too, feels the yellow SOUL child, who abhors tyranny and fights for justice. Even then, they have their doubts and worries--was the philosophy of a life for a life truly right? Or were they only feeding into their own sense of self-righteousness? Frisk, too, has worried about what the right thing is, but they know they’ll figure it out with their friends by their side... and the SOUL, too, is one of their friends.

Hngh... the Player grunts, sounding pained. She staggers back a step, one nub rising to her chest. Actually, That... Stings. Are You Going To Keep On, Knowing You’re Hurting Me? For A Pacifist, That’s Not Very Nice Of You.

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you,” Frisk replies quietly, getting up to their knees and wiping their brow. “Anytime you want to stop this would be fine by me.”

And the green SOUL child is of a like mind, which Frisk knows when their concern seeps into them. It hasn’t always been easy to choose kindness, and it’s even more difficult not to get enraged and vengeful when someone betrays or takes advantage of that kindness. Even so, they truly believe this horrible cycle needs to come to an end. The truly cruel thing would be to repeat it over and over, as they have been. Frisk wholeheartedly agrees.

Hahahaha. I’m Sure--It Would, the Player wheezes. She jerks a nub up, and Frisk leaps to their feet and immediately falls over. Meanwhile, How Long Can You Tolerate Tumbling Over Yourself Like This? Since We’re On The Subject Of Hurting And All!

“I’ll probably have plenty of bruises later, that’s for sure,” they admit, then break into a coughing fit. “B-but... I’ve come this far. I just need to hold out until you’ve had your fill.”

A tactic the aqua SOUL child can get behind, literally. Waiting and waiting didn’t always get them what they wanted, and often chances passed them by because they didn’t recognize the opportunities for what they were or because they hesitated to take a chance. Still, patience got them through a lot of things that not everyone could endure. And sometimes, staying calm and staying put is enough to resolve a situation. They, and Frisk, will see if that holds here too.

...You Really Are Too Nice, the Player says, and she sounds desolate. People Take Advantage Of People Like You. People Overlook People Like You. You Know This Well. Being “Good” Just Means Everyone Can Get Away With Ignoring You. There’s No Benefit.

A different kind of pain twists in Frisk’s chest, and they reach out to her hesitantly. When she doesn’t swat them away, they inch closer on their knees. “Maybe. But I’ve thought about this a lot, and I decided I’ll choose kindness over cruelty. ‘Benefit’ has nothing to do with it.”

A deep azure glow illuminates the two, and both Frisk and the Player cringe in reaction from the feedback. As the prickling fades, Frisk feels the kinship from the blue SOUL child. Being true to yourself in a world that hates who you are has always been difficult; the despair this struggle gave them was what originally drove them to Mt. Ebott. But hopes and dreams aren’t so fragile, as Frisk also knows. Looking back, they’re proud they maintained their integrity.

And so tears prickle the corners of Frisk’s eyes. They rub their face, then close the last distance to rest their hand on the Player’s chest, over where her heart would be, where the last SOUL quivers.

“You said you had a SOUL of your own,” they say. “I want to understand how you feel. Will you share it with me?”

The Player creaks her head up to stare eye-to-eye at Frisk. Then she rests a nub on their hand and leans in

\---

and the void blanks out. It’s an odd way to put it, “blank out,” since by definition, a void is supposed to be full of nothing. But when Frisk looks around, there’s nothing to describe: not sound, not sight, not color, not light, not smell. It’s just... empty.

Things then enter by degrees. Tiny fairy lights, purple and red and silver, begin to shine around them. They seem close, but when Frisk extends a hand, they find they can’t reach. Something white and and massive and billowing, like God’s sheer silk curtains, flutters at a remove. They think they see someone behind it, and the form seems familiar, but when they strain their eyes to try to peer through, they realize they can’t really see anything at all. Something small and furry rubs up against their ankles like an affectionate kitten, but when they look down, nothing’s there and the sensation stops; when they look away, it resumes along with a faint purr, but only so long as they keep their eyes away. The sound of a song strains at the edge of their hearing, but they can’t get more than a sense of the tune. It’s like hearing a radio through three separate walls at four in the morning.

But there are words, and they float disconnected before them in a haze before wisping away again.

in a place far away, i had a dream  
in a time long ago, i liked to seem  
as if i was ruler of my fancied world  
thus i could avoid this cruel, empty world

but now i’m older, and they’ve shattered long  
i’m older; they’re now a fantasy song  
i have forgotten my past reveries  
for they’ve been swept gone by my miseries

The hint of a melody grows so strong, it feels like Frisk could have sung along with it. But they can’t. It’s all so disconnected, so _desolate_.

Is that how you really feel? ...So they try to say, but they can’t vocalize it. That doesn’t bother them too much. They’re used to conveying their feelings with their heart, and one glowing brightly red hovers before their chest.

A shadow deepens behind the curtain, tracing a humanoid form. Its outline is stronger than it was before, but Frisk still can’t make out the details.

I Wrote That Song When I Was A Child, Like You, the Player says. Now That I’m An Adult... I Still Feel That Way. Pathetic, Is It Not?

Frisk turns. It’s a strange lack of sensation. They think if they were on a spaceship with no gravity, it would “feel” something like that.

Hasn’t anything changed for you?

Lots Of Things. And Yet, Here I Still Am.

Do you want to change?

The Player pauses. She seems to think for a while. Change Is Scary, she concludes. And At My Core, I Am A Coward.

So you don’t want to change?

I Don’t Think I’m Good As I Am.

So you do want to change?

That’s A Good Question, Isn’t It?

It would be even better if you’d actually answer it.

She laughs. At least, Frisk thinks she laughs. Some Things Can’t Be Answered With A Simple “Yes” Or “No.” Anyway, You Wanted To Know How I Feel. Frustration Is Just Part And Parcel Of The Experience.

Frisk waits a while longer.

...No, she says eventually. I’ve Had Enough Of Change. I Don’t Want To Change Anymore. I Want To End.

An end is still a change.

Frisk, Nobody Likes A Semantics Hound.

Sorry. But I hear frustration is part and parcel of the experience.

She laughs again, probably. True. And You’re Right, I Suppose. Change _Is_ One Of The Seven Characteristics Of Life.

If you’re tired of this world, do you want to go home?

Not Really.

Why not?

Because It’s Terrible. But So Is Everywhere Else, I Suppose. It’s Not That The World Itself Is Bad. I’m Not Out To Destroy It Or Anything. The Problem Is And Always Has Been Me.

Is that why you hate yourself?

Who Can Say? Certainly Hating Myself Makes It Easier To Accept The Blame.

What do you want, then? What are your hopes and dreams?

I Don’t Know. I Used To Have Things Like That. But, and here she sings, ♪ They’ve Been Swept Gone By My Miseries. ♪

I’m really sorry to hear that.

Me Too. No One Likes An Emo Sadsack.

Frisk considers this. Then they wonder, Didn’t you want to be hated?

You Shouldn’t Take Anything I Say Too Seriously.

When they consider this too, Frisk realizes that this could mean either that they do want to be hated, or that they secretly really don’t.

What color is your SOUL? they ask.

Hmmm... What Color Do You Think It Is?

Purple.

Huh. What Makes You Think That?

Because even though you don’t like yourself or anything, and you lost sight of your goal, you keep moving on. That sounds like perseverance to me.

Hmmm. Maybe. You Are Right, Though: My SOUL Is Purple. Ha, Did You Know Someone Once Told Me They Thought It Was Green? Boy, Can I Fake It Or What?

_Were_ you faking?

Her whole body sags, oozing from the extremities. Sometimes I Think Every Part Of Me Is Fake. What About You? You Wanted To Re-Write The Ending, Didn’t You?

Startled by the non-sequitur, Frisk utters, Me? Yes, I did, but... why?

What Sort Of Ending Did You Have In Mind? And Don’t Say “One Where Everyone Is Happy.” The Devil, As They Say, Is In The Details.

Frisk finds that’s a tough question to answer. I don’t really know, they admit. I’m having enough trouble figuring out how to get to the next scene, I guess you’d call it.

I See. Well, Stories Are Like That Sometimes. Characters Refuse To Do What You Want Them To, The Plot Derails Itself, And The Ending You Sought Dissolves Into Dust.

Do you ever do any story-writing?

...A Little.

Do you have any advice?

She laughs, and this time it’s so hard even Frisk knows it’s for real. Don’t Be Afraid To Be Mean, For One.

They make a face. That sounds like advice you’d give.

If You Don’t Like It, Feel Free To Ignore It. Ultimately, Story-Telling Is About Figuring Out What Works And What Doesn’t, Then Keeping The Former And Throwing Out The Rest.

That’s really vague.

It’s Hard Work. It’s Even Harder When You Feel Like Nothing You Do Is Good Enough.

I know what you mean. The more I talk to you, the less I feel like I understand you.

That’s Okay. That’s Not Your Fault. Even In This Little Heart-To-Heart, There’s So Much I Hold Back. Talking To Me Like This Is A Waste Of Everyone’s Time.

No it’s not! Actually, I want to thank you, Frisk counters. I appreciate you talking to me even after you said you were done talking.

She pauses again. Oh Yeah, she muses. I Did Say That, Didn’t I?

The void pops like a soap bubble

\---

and Frisk goes flying.

They land in a heap and slide an inch or two so there. Breaking into another coughing fit, they turn around to look up at the Player, who rises to her feet--and above. Floating as if unattached to the world, she hovers slowly over to them. Frisk grimaces up at her, then shoots a glance at Chara and Asriel. Based on the way they clutch their chests and each other, both of them look like they’re in pain, though it’s not immediately obvious to Frisk why. If it were just Chara, they’d understand, but Asriel, too?

So, That Didn’t Go Well, the Player observes.

Frisk has to admit that she’s right. “You did take a closer look at yourself,” they say anyway. “That’s a step in the right direction!”

Not Really. I Can’t Believe Anything Good About Myself. At Least If I’m The Bad Guy, I Can Own My Garbagehood Instead Of Feeling Like A Fraud. So, Somehow, I Doubt I’ll Get A Round Of Applause And A Hearty “Congratulations!” For This.

Chara and Asriel glare at her, the former with loathing, the latter with trepidation. Frisk stares at her too. Despair begins to sink into the pit of their stomach.

“You don’t even want to try, do you?” they wonder quietly.

Being A Villain Is Great, the Player non-replies, her single eye rotating in a slow, bloody haze. You Can Do Whatever You Want And Not Feel Bad About Any Of It. You Don’t Need To Feel Anything At All.

The purple SOUL pulses inside her, and the halo of SOULs around Frisk pulse in time with it. They scramble upright, only to drop to their hands and knees when the Player makes a sharp downward gesture.

“Get your filthy hands off Frisk!” Chara snarls, voice pitching high.

Or Else What? You’ll Kill Me? You Can’t, You Know. None Of You Can.

“Frisk has control of most the SOULs now,” Asriel points out, voice reedy.

That’s Irrelevant. In The Same Way You Can’t Kill A Ghost, This Form Is Just A Projection; Destroying It Won’t Kill Me.

Frisk struggles to push their head upright. “It won’t...?”

Nope! So Much For Your Stab-Happy Friend, Huh?

“Oh, fuck you,” Chara hisses, teeth grit. They raise their voice to snarl, “You’re so full of shit! I don’t care _what_ your damage is, Ms. Big Bad Villain! What good do you think would possibly come of making yourself feel nothing?!”

Good Question, Chara, she replies, looking at them. What Good Did It Do You?

They flinch, wide-eyed. Asriel holds their shoulder, worried. Then they shake their head slowly, dampness collecting at the corners of their eyes. “None!! None whatsoever!!”

Haha... Hahahaha.

“D-don’t make fun of Chara,” Asriel protests, expression and voice heated despite his stutter. “I’ve had it up to here with you!”

With _Me_? Or With The You Who Acted Like Me?

Asriel, too, flinches as if slapped. However: “Both!” he barks. “I was a cruel jerk, and I treated everyone like toys, too. And I was wrong! And so are you. Just _listen_ to Frisk and Chara already! We’ve put them through enough!”

Haha... Look At You, Doing Better. That’s Genuinely Sweet. She smiles, her eye curving in an upward crescent. Then it fades. But I’m Tired. I’m Sick And Tired And Very, Very Done. No Matter What I Do To Distract Myself, I Go Back To Being Empty In The End. My Precious Escapism Has Done Nothing To Soothe Me. So Please, Let’s Bring This Farce To A Close.

A sensation like a million icy needles piercing every extremity of their body jabs through Frisk, and the orange through blue SOULs flicker. That feeling of hopes and dreams lost... The children who fell down Mt. Ebott, journeyed through the Underground, lost their lives, and now exist only as SOULs. No bodies to return to, no lives to live, merely waiting endlessly for the day when they’ll be used as power sources... They want this to end, too. The sheer hopelessness of it all rips a sob from Frisk’s throat, and the SOULs from their control. The Player twists her nub, and flat on the floor they go.

“FRISK!!” Chara roars, launching themself into motion, Asriel a half-second behind them. Reality spins, and trapped in vertigo, they slam back down and lie deathly still.

Asriel makes it no further before he, too, collapses, clutching his collar. “I... I can’t feel my legs,” he gasps. He opens his paw and sees the tips of his claws are turning green.

Frisk can only just prop themself up by one arm; the other is too shaky for anything but support. “Ch-Chara? Asriel! What’s wrong?” they call, voice trembling.

Ah. Did You Forget? Neither Of Them Has A SOUL, the Player says, tone indifferent as she watches the two twitch. They Did Well To Last This Long On Just The Echoes Of The SOULs They Stole Or Shared, But Their Time Is Out. Asriel Will Return To His Flower Form, And Chara’s Makeshift Body Will Return To Bones.

“No,” Frisk whispers, tears streaking down their cheeks.

Asriel slumps over. “S-sorry, Frisk,” he murmurs. “Chara and I... figured this would happen.” He offers them a melancholy smile. “There’s nothing anyone can do. So don’t blame yourself, okay? You did a lot for both of us, and... you know...”

Chara stirs. When they pull their head up, their face is ghostly pale, their cheeks angry red splotches. “Ree... you suck at motivational speeches.”

“Wh, hey,” he protests, laughing weakly.

“Frisk... I’m sorry, too.” They smile faintly and manage to move their hand over Asriel’s. “I know you hate being alone. But I promise, you saved us. One way or another, we’ll still be with you.” Their smile steels with determination by proxy. “So get through this.”

How Touching, the Player monotones.

Frisk crawls up to their knees, feeling dazed. Perhaps it’s their imagination or a hallucination, but they can see Chara starting to melt, Asriel’s limbs start to curdle away; a blink later, and their forms are back the way they were. But then the decay starts again...

They look up at the Player. They look at the other SOULs aligning with her, weary of a half-existence, yearning to move on. They think of what the Player said about herself and about Gaster; they look at the monster SOULs shimmering bright; they feel the human SOULs synced with theirs, and beyond them, the Player, the barrier, the void. They think of how much this all is for one ten-year-old to handle. They know that there’s no way they can do this on their own. They acknowledge they have no desire to even try to fly solo.

They clasp their hands over their own SOUL and cup it, then stagger to their feet.

Oh? Are You Giving Up At Last?

Without responding, Frisk holds out their hands, their SOUL floating above. Momentary dizziness strikes them, and they shut their eyes and hold still to wait it out. When they hear Chara and Asriel’s cries, they peek to see the Player looming over their SOUL. She tilts her head, then looks up at them.

Gosh. I Know I Should Just Take It, Finish The Collection, But... Frisk, The Truth Is, I Never Wanted Your SOUL At All. It Was Just Something To Do.

“I know,” they reply. “I wasn’t offering it to you.”

She tilts her head the other way. Oh? Then What _Are_ You Doing?

They meet her eye. “I can’t kill you, right?”

No. Why?

“Frisk?” Chara and Asriel chorus at their back.

Over their shoulder, they smile tenderly at the ones they love the most. “We’ll all get through this,” they swear. Inside, they pray, _I hope I’m not about to mess this all up._

Then they seize either side of their SOUL, thumbs pressed onto the center, and twist hard. They pour all of their determination into enduring the searing agony until the red heart snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Somehow, I Doubt I’ll Get A Round Of Applause And A Hearty “Congratulations!” For This." The Player is referencing the finale of the TV anime _Neon Genesis Evangelion_.


	41. I Believe In Our Hopes And Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 3 -??????- continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few passages have been rewritten/edited due to unintentional similarities to another person's fics. I'm embarrassed and ashamed that it happened in the first place, but I'm also glad it was brought to my attention so I could fix it.

“FRISK!!” Chara shrieks, body shaking violently from the effort to move.

“What are you _doing_?!” Asriel wails, nearly collapsing.

Tears and sweat drench Frisk’s sweater, and their hands tremble as the three fragments of their SOUL flicker over them. Like a door dropping from its frame, Frisk collapses backwards towards their best friends. Asriel catches them, and Chara manages to roll upright to cradle their head. Without a word, Frisk take two of the pieces and press one each towards Chara and Asriel, while the remaining fragment sinks back into them. Softly and silently, each piece nestles inside each body as if they belong, but none of them look any better for it. All the same, Frisk reaches out and clasps Chara and Asriel’s free hands, their smile never fading.

“You IDIOT. I can’t believe you,” Asriel blubbers, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t _believe_ you! Nobody can survive on _part_ of a SOUL! Now you’ll die, too!”

Frisk reaches up and strokes his floppy ears.

“Frisk, why?” Chara pleads, chest heaving. “I’ve already died once--there’s no reason you should die with me! What’s Ree gonna do when he turns back into a flower?”

“He won’t,” Frisk murmurs, listening to the sound of their breathing. “We’re all going to make it. I think.”

That’s Awfully Optimistic Of You, the Player observes, floating up to join the group. Chara and Asriel glare at her with all the heat they can each muster, but Frisk doesn’t so much as turn their head. Asriel’s Right. No Matter How Much Determination You Have, You Can’t Get By With Just Part Of A SOUL. What’s This Self-Sacrifice Going To Accomplish?

“Everything,” Frisk whispers. “Because it’s not self-sacrifice. I believe in our hopes and dreams. So I haven’t lost anything I won’t gain back.”

The Player tilts her head just before the first crack spiders through every human SOUL all at once. A strangled gasp escapes into the air; then all six synchronized SOULs shatter into three pieces, leaving behind a matching neon white crack in the Player’s form and in the void itself. She floats away as if suddenly weightless, and the fragmented SOULs fall to the three children.

Not every piece will fit. But not every piece needs to.

Chara’s red eyes widen as they gawk up at the fragmented SOULs, and Asriel stares at them dumbfounded to match. The pieces of the SOUL they both received flicker, and they glance at each other, then at Frisk. They return their gazes with calm patience, and a piece of the aqua SOUL flutters into them as if drawn there. Purple soon follows suit, for even when they began to despair of a perfect solution, they persevered. Frisk sucks in a small breath and holds their chest as the three pieces come together, forming a single SOUL on the will to wait a while longer and keep trying for a better future.

Chara props themself up on one elbow, gripping Asriel’s sleeve as they wince. Despite this, they glance at him to make sure that he’s all right, that they’re not holding on too hard. The way he smiles back at them tells them they’re fine, and reassured, they pull up to their knees. Lashing out as their oppressors has always been a part of who they are, and so they’ve always struggled with kindness and bravery. Perhaps sensing that--perhaps sensing their will to overcome their worst self--pieces of the orange and green SOULs draw closer to them until they sink inside.

Asriel holds Chara’s hand as they arise, and when they’re upright, he looks over at Frisk and awkwardly offers them his paw as well. They take it and lean on him, letting him support the both of them. It would be easy for him to cast Flowey as a completely different person, and he knows he dearly wants to, but would that really be taking responsibility for what he’d done? Is he at fault, when he can’t help that he didn’t have a SOUL in the first place? Even now he’s unsure, but he knows he wants to rebuild his integrity from the ground up, to figure out what real justice is. When the yellow and blue SOUL fragments sink into him, he shuts his eyes.

Frisk giggles then, and sits up to reach for Chara; Chara helps them up. “Look,” they say, shifting on their knees and gently pulling the others’s hands with them. “We form a heart.”

Chara snorts with affection and subtle laughter. “You are _such_ a nerd,” they say, squeezing the others’s hands but moving to make Frisk’s observation truer all the same.

Asriel chortles and does the same. He looks up at the remaining fragments, even now dissolving into motes of rainbow light. But: “They’re not vanishing... The light’s getting brighter,” he observes. He looks over at the Player, whose form too is flaking apart. “Does this mean the barrier’s broken?”

Chara turns too. “Is everything going to be _okay_ with the barrier broken?” they wonder. “What’s going to happen to this dimension or whatever we’re in?”

Frisk purses their lips, then, with great reluctance, pulls their hands away to get up and walk over to the Player. Light splinters across her chest from shoulder to hip, right to left, and again from waist to her other hip. It looks a little like one of the symbols from anime, though which one exactly, they can’t name. The greater-than-darkness that makes up her body peels in little flakes and flits up like ash in the night sky, leaving less and less of her behind, as white on black pulses beneath her every few heartbeats.

Her head rolls towards them as they draw close and stand over her. Frisk feels Chara and Asriel approach from behind to join them, but they don’t look back. They’re having trouble finding the right words.

Fortunately, there’s Chara, who asks bluntly, “Are you done?”

More Or Less.

“Good. Good riddance.”

She doesn’t respond, though her crescent mouth does switch up momentarily.

Asriel meanwhile looks overhead as the monster SOULs drift further apart to head deeper into the light. “Are they all going to be okay?”

“I think so. Dr. Gaster’s guiding them,” Frisk says. “He guided them all here, too.”

They’re Right, the Player speaks up. Gaster Has A Few Neat Tricks He Can Pull, And The Remains Of The Human SOULs Will Make Up The Rest Of The Power. How Nice, To Die Doing Good In The World.

“Nothing you’ll ever know,” Chara snipes.

I Guess.

“Then the world’s gonna be restored?” Asriel asks, fidgeting.

Yeah.

“You don’t sound upset,” Frisk observes.

Well, I Lost. The Least I Can Do Is Lose Graciously. You All Did Great.

Frisk smiles, sticks their hands in their pockets, and scuffs a shoe. Chara frowns, folds their arms, and looks away. Asriel scratches his cheek, looks up at the SOULs, and says, “Oh.”

That Reminds Me, Frisk: I Said I’d Give You Something Nice If You Won.

They kneel down next to her. “It’s okay. The world is enough for me.”

The World, Huh... She stares up at nothing. On My Birthday A Couple Years Ago, When I Went Out To Eat By Myself, I Tipped Extra-Large. I Figured, At Least Someone Should Be Glad I Was Born.

Asriel scratches his head. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Nothing. Never Mind. I Was Just Talking To Myself.

Frisk folds their hands. “You’re returning to your own world now, right?”

In A Manner Of Speaking.

“I hope you can find some friends who can help you through your problems.”

I Won’t, But That’s My Own Issue.

“What’s the matter? Can’t find anyone who can tolerate the real you?” Chara snipes.

Mmm. To The Very End, I Just Don’t Believe In Friendship, That’s All. Friends Will Inevitably Hurt You--Just Like How I’ll Inevitably Hurt Them. So It’s Better To Be Alone. She laughs faintly. You Probably Think I’m Wrong, But That’s How I Really Think. For a moment, she breathes, watching the flakes of her body rise like ash from a bonfire. Oh, And... I’m Sorry For All I Put You Kids Through.

“You are?” Frisk utters, echoing the surprise Chara and Asriel feel.

Yes. You Wanted An Apology, Didn’t You, Frisk?

They open their mouth to ask _Do you mean it?_ , but shut it again. “I appreciate it,” they say instead.

“...I don’t care how ‘sorry’ you are. I’m not ever going to forgive you,” Chara mumbles, clutching their arms to their chest. “I hate you. I’ll never stop hating you.”

That’s Fine. I Don’t Need To Be Forgiven, she replies. Hate Me As Much As You Please. I’m Content With Being An Example Of What Not To Do.

No one speaks. The light brightens, piercing through what remains of the Player, and her form flakes harder until there’s barely an outline left.

Then Frisk leans over her. Her single eye drifts over to them.

“Thank you,” they murmur. “For everything you did for us.”

Her eye widens. Then her mouth twists as she weeps scarlet tears.

The light overtakes even that, though, flooding through the last of her to illuminate all of reality. The three yelp and shield their eyes--but nothing happens. Slowly, they pull their arms and hands away, then peer around at a featureless world, as white and blank as a piece of drawing paper.

After a long silence, Asriel asks, “...Now what?”

Chara rubs their arm. “I... I don’t know.”

Frisk gazes at the spot where the Player was. Then they look up at their companions. “Hey. Are you guys hungry?”

“...I guess I am a little hungry, now that you mention it,” says Asriel.

“I’ve literally never eaten before, ever,” says Chara, to which Asriel and Frisk both snort out a laugh.

“I was just thinking, if there’s something we’re waiting on, we may as well have something to eat,” Frisk says, digging their phone out of their pocket. “The Dimensional Boxes keep everything fresh, and I’ve been saving this, so...” With a few presses of buttons, they draw out an egg quiche. “You guys wanna share?”

“That looks good,” Asriel says while Chara gives it a funny look. He looks at Frisk with a hopeful smile. “...I don’t suppose you saved a piece of butterscotch-cinnamon pie, though?”

A few button pushes later, and Frisk hands him a plate of pie. “There was a leftover slice from the pie Toriel and me made yesterday, so she let me have it,” they explain. “Wow! Was that really only yesterday? It feels like it’s been months.”

“No kidding,” Chara says, wistful. “Geez, I wish I’d had that chocolate bar while I had the chance.”

_Beep_. “Here you go.”

“Frisk, I love you,” Chara enthuses, lighting up as they accept the bar.

“I love you too, Chara,” Frisk replies warmly.

They turn pink, rip open the bar, and shove half of it in their mouth.

Asriel folds his legs, pauses, then rocks back and forth on them, looking incredibly pleased. “I can feel my legs again,” he says. “It’s just now really hitting me.” He squishes and stretches his paws, looking at them with open fascination, and laughs with delight. “I can feel my arms and legs and _everything_ again!”

Chara swallows their chocolate and picks up a piece of pie with their bare hands. “Eat your pie, you dork,” they say affectionately, pushing the chunk at his mouth.

Asriel yelps and bleats and licks the pie off Chara’s hand, to which Chara shrieks with laughter.

“Ewwww, goat spit!” they yell.

“I’ll give _you_ goat spit!” Asriel declares before leaning in and giving Chara a messy, butterscotch-cinnamon-filled kiss. They squeal before dissolving in a fit of giggles and kissing him back.

“At least you taste good,” they remark when they pull away, flushed.

“Y-yeah, so do you,” Asriel agrees, which just makes Chara blush harder. “And, um... I know I said this before, but I kind of didn’t have a SOUL at the time, so... I love you, Chara.”

They go quit for several seconds. Then they cover their mouth with one hand and glance away. “...I love you too, Ree.”

“Asriel?” Frisk says.

He bolts upright. “Oh, uh, yeah?! Sorry! Didn’t mean to forget you!”

But Frisk just shakes their head and holds out a piece of quiche. “Sorry to interrupt. But you like it when I feed you, right?” they say, smiling.

“Uh ohh, here comes Frisk the smooth operator,” Chara sing-songs, seizing the chance to push the embarrassment spotlight on someone else.

“You’ll get your turn,” Frisk teases.

“Oh, gosh,” Asriel utters, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he obediently leans forward and eats out of Frisk’s hand.

“Can I try a piece of that?” Chara asks. They snap off a row of pieces from their chocolate and offer it. “Trade you.”

“You don’t need to trade me,” Frisk says, while trading a piece of quiche for the chocolate anyway. “Mmm, this is a good brand!”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite! You hardly ever saw it down here in the Underground--Toriel must’ve saved that for _ages_ ,” Chara enthuses, before taking a bite of their quiche. They chew thoughtfully, swallow, and say, “Huh. That’s pretty good for something you literally picked up off the ground.”

Asriel spits.

“Asriel! Don’t spit it out! That’s so rude to the quiche!” Frisk admonishes him.

“Uh, sorry??” he replies, baffled. He glances at Chara for answers, but they diligently savor the rest of their piece instead. “Um... then...” He smiles furtively. “...do you mind if I feed you?”

A smile glows on Frisk’s face. “I’d love that,” they say. “And I love you too, Azzy. Do you mind if I call you Azzy?”

“Oh, gosh,” he repeats, smiling a goofy, bashful kind of smile. “I love you too, Frisk. You can call me what you want. You double-earned it.”

“I like to call him ‘Nubby,’” Chara declares as Asriel dusts off his hands and picks up an uneven slice of quiche. They lean on him, hook an arm around his shoulders, and rub his head. “On account of the horns he doesn’t have yet.”

“I’ll get them someday!” he grumbles good-naturedly, holding the quiche slice out. Frisk leans in and munches it, bite by bite, and as they do, his expression turns thoughtful. “I _will_ get them someday, huh?”

Chara stares in the distance for a second; then they lean their head on his shoulder. “...Yeah, you will.”

Frisk wipes their mouth and adds, “We’ll all grow taller, too. Looking at Toriel and Asgore, I bet Azzy will be REALLY tall.”

“Yeah. We’re going to become adults someday,” Chara says slowly. “Wow. That’s... wow.” They shake their head. “I can’t even imagine what adult me would be like.”

“Quick-witted,” Asriel suggests.

“Pun-loving,” Frisk adds.

“Loves to explore.”

“And read!”

“And knit, and draw.”

“Goes quiet when they’re upset.”

“Hides low self-esteem by acting worldly.”

“Kind of a mean sense of humor sometimes.”

“And has the _cutest_ smile,” the two conclude in unison.

“Why not just say ‘you won’t be any different at all,’” Chara says, red-faced.

Asriel grins. “That wouldn’t be any fun, though.”

“Because you’re cute when you blush,” Frisk adds. When Chara’s ruddy cheeks deepen into maroon and they grab the last piece of quiche, Frisk and Asriel share a high-five.

“We really have a future now, though,” Asriel says thoughtfully as he sneaks some chocolate from Chara, or rather, Chara lets him sneak some. “‘Wow’ is the word for it.” He gives Frisk a rueful smile. “I never would’ve thought you could’ve saved me from... well, myself.”

“I can’t imagine an ending where I couldn’t save you _and_ Chara,” Frisk replies, tilting their head. “If I ended up with something like that, even if everyone else was happy, I think I’d have to reset after all.”

Chara swallows their quiche, then takes a piece of the pie slice. “Can you even reset at this point?”

Frisk pauses. “...uh...”

“Well, it’s probably better not to try to find out,” they admit. They eat their pie piece in one bite, then sigh contentedly. “I’m pretty okay with the way things are right now.”

A funny look twists Asriel’s face. Then it passes like a shadow. “Yeah, me too. We’ll be together from now on, won’t we?”

“Definitely,” Frisk agrees. They fling their arms around Asriel and Chara’s shoulders and pull them both into a hug. “No matter what, or where we are.”

Asriel laughs and wraps his arms around his two favorite people. “When you put it like that...”

Chara squeezes them both tight. “...I know it’ll be true.”

As the sounds of their joy intermingle, the featureless white of the nothing-dimension glows until it overtakes everything, then fades away. But the trio remains, for however broken they may be, their SOULS now remain tightly bound together by the red thread of love.

\---

“...isk? Frisk, can you hear me? Good morning!”

Frisk blinks blearily, and with each blink, Toriel’s face comes into focus. They see her smile in relief and lean back; around her, the others--Papyrus, Sans, Undyne, Alphys, and Asgore--watch them in a circle with varying degrees of fretfulness.

“Frisk!!! You’re alive!” Papyrus observes, weaving back and forth to get a better look. “And you brought fellow tiny people with you!!!”

They twist around, fingers twitching, to see Asriel and Chara lying nearby, among the carpet of golden flowers of the throne room. Both of them stir, Asriel wiggling his nose, Chara spitting out petals and leaves. They each look up, and Asriel breaks into a smile to see Frisk that rapidly fades when he notices everyone else; Chara notices the crowd first and so reaches for Frisk’s hand.

“Um,” Asriel squeaks. “Howdy!”

Toriel and Asgore both silently enfold him in their arms, all animosity temporarily forgotten. He squeaks again, then shuts his eyes and lets himself relax. When Frisk and Chara sit up, the two of them are pulled into the fold as well, which when Papyrus declares “GROUP HUG!!” and Undyne roars “YOU’RE ON!!” leads swiftly to a hug cluster with the trio at its center. Any hesitation or gloom that hangs over the group dispels to the squealing sounds of laughter and a tangle of limbs. Eventually, the group unhugs one another, and the kids manage to get up and stay on their feet.

“So,” Sans says, hands now securely tucked in his pockets as he looks over the trio. “You all got bodies and SOULs now. That’s pretty wild.”

“It’s a long story,” Frisk says.

“How’re you all feeling?” he asks. While the question is phrased as if for all of them, he stares at Asriel and Chara as he asks it.

“Um,” Asriel says, scratching his cheek as he ducks his head. “...Complete. And guilty.”

“I’m still processing that,” Chara says.

Sans shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Asriel looks up and around at the monsters surrounding him and his dearest friends. “Um. Golly, this is kind of awkward,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I should first say I’m really sorry for everything I did while I was a flower... I know I was a real jerk.” His expression falls gently. “I’ll do anything I can to make up for it, but I understand if you can’t trust or like me after all that happened.”

“Wowie! My best friend was the King’s clone!” Papyrus declares. He presses his hands to his cheekbones as his eye sockets sparkle. “I’m so going to start a fan club!!”

“I HEARD THAT!!” Undyne yells, grabbing Frisk. “If the Prince is your best friend, then you’re admitting Frisk ISN’T, right?! Which means they’re MY bestie!!!”

“WHAT NO THAT’S CHEATING,” Papyrus protests, eyes boggling.

“TOO LATE!! I CALL DIBS!!!” Undyne crows, hefting Frisk over her shoulder. They yelp out a little _uwah!_ , followed by a delighted giggle. Her eyes gleam, and she adds, “Unless you wanna fight me for it, nerd?!”

“Errrr...” Papyrus stammers, sweating.

“Ummm...” Asriel speaks up at the same time, holding up a paw.

Papyrus looks down at him, then seizes him by the shoulders and all but squashes their faces together. “YES! Our best friendship will OVERTHROW your best friendship, and we will prove decisively that we are the bestest and friendest of ALL TIME!!!!”

“Uhh--” Asriel repeats, to no avail.

“NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT!!!” Undyne yells back, swinging her body down to loop Frisk’s legs around and let them ride on her shoulders. They shriek with laughter and take hold of her forehead while she grips their legs. “First one to lap around the Underground and come back here wins!!!”

“VERY WELL!!!” Papyrus shouts, sweeping Asriel up onto his own shoulders. He points dramatically in no particular direction at all. “Come, tiny Asgore clone a.k.a. Flowey the Not-A-Flower! We have competitions to win together!! Nyeh heh heh heh!!”

“But... I... i-is this really okay?” Asriel stammers, looking around, bewildered.

“Seems okay to me,” says Frisk from atop Undyne. They look over at Toriel and Asgore and tilt their head. “Is it?”

“Oh, dear,” Toriel says, hiding a smile behind one hand. “Please be sure to take care of my son, Papyrus. You be careful with Frisk as well, Undyne.”

“Of course!!” he declares, puffing his chest out.

“My bestie’s not gettin’ hurt on MY watch!” Undyne says, clenching a fist.

“Enjoy your time with your friends, Asriel,” Asgore says, eyes crinkling. “Your mother and I will always welcome you when you return.”

“See you soon, Ree,” adds Chara, waving. “Go have fun.”

Tear well up in the corners of Asriel’s eyes as a smile blooms across his face. “O-okay!”

“On your mark! Get set! EAT OUR DUST, NERDS!!!” Undyne roars, taking off out of the room while Frisk whoops. Papyrus races after her as Asriel breaks out into happy laughter. The sound of the four of them trails for a long moment after they’ve gone.

“So,” Sans speaks up, looking over the room, “bets on who wins?”

“Oh, god,” Alphys utters, choking on a laugh. “It c-could go either way.”

Asgore turns to his ex-wife. “Tori,” he rumbles, keeping his voice low. “I know this may not be the best time, but... with Asriel and Chara back--”

“Stop,” she murmurs curtly. “I am of course elated to have them both back. But that is a separate matter from the children you have slain. I will never forgive you for that, Asgore Dreemurr.”

He hangs his head. “...I understand, Toriel.”

“...Never?” Chara says from nearby, staring at the doorway to the throne room.

Toriel hesitates. Then she rests a paw on top of their head. When they flinch, she draws it away. “Well,” she says. “I suppose ‘never’ is a very long time. I have no desire to give anyone false hope--” She shoots Asgore a stony glare, then looks back at Chara with a gentler expression. “But I acknowledge that people who have done wrong can change for the better.”

They look up at her, then at Asgore. She purses her lips and does likewise.

He meets her gaze, somber. “I can make no excuses for what I’ve done. But if it makes any difference, I swear to both of you that I will bring no harm to the hu--rather, Frisk,” he catches himself. “I have no desire to fight you, Toriel. Or anyone.”

She doesn’t unpurse her lips; however, after a moment, she gives him a clipped nod. “I suppose we can agree on that much.”

Chara breathes out a small, relieved sigh.

Alphys shuffles over to them, nodding once each to the former king and queen. “S-so, hey, um, Chara,” she stammers. “Um, th-there’s something I w-want to ask you...”

They half-turn to her, tensing a little. “...Yeah?”

She fidgets for a moment. Then she blurts out, “D-d’you wanna finish that _Mew Mew_ marathon sometime?!”

“Oh, uh--sure,” Chara says, taken aback.

Alphys’s mouth creaks into a wide and awkward grin. “O-oh! Well! That’s! Great!” A pause. “S-sorry. I was kind of expecting you to shut me down,” she admits. “I’ve always k-kind of had the impression y-you didn’t like me.”

Chara faces her. “...You just remind me of myself, is all.” They pause a beat, then offer a small, crooked smile. “If it falls through, we can gush about how cool Undyne is instead.”

Alphys clutches her claws under her chin as her beady eyes sparkle. “Oh my god I could talk ALL NIGHT about that!”

Their smile widens into a grin. “Couldn’t we all?”

The weight of a large and gentle hand distracts them, and they look up to see Asgore smiling affectionately down at them as he tousles their hair. They return his smile, and seeing the same on Toriel’s face, they criss-cross their fingers behind their back. Another deep breath, and they look over at the last person in the room.

“Um... Sans?”

“Yo?”

They shift from one foot to the other, wondering how to put this. Then they laugh a little, thinking back to an old conversation with Frisk, and just say it: “Thanks for slaughtering me thirteen times in a row to make me give up on destroying the world.”

Sans’s eye sockets crinkle. “Anytime, kiddo. Anytime.”

“Excuse me?” Toriel says blankly. “What is this about slaughter?”

“It’s an inside joke,” Chara replies, looking up at her. “Between him and me.”

“Don’t take it too seriously,” Sans suggests.

“Oh! Well, if it is just a joke,” she says, relaxing. “You always did have a somewhat morbid sense of humor, Chara.”

A smile flushes across their ruddy cheeks, but it dies down when they catch Asgore’s furrowed brows and troubled frown. They meet his eyes for a couple of seconds; then they shake their head slightly. As they’d hoped, he doesn’t press the issue or even speak up.

Though, even if he had, a rumble in the distance that swiftly grows louder would have interrupted the conversation as surely as Papyrus and Asriel would have when they screech to a halt in front of the flowerbed an instant later.

“NYEH HEH HEH! VICTORY!!” Papyrus cheers.

“VICTORY!!” Asriel choruses, and the two of them share a high-five.

The rumbling doesn’t stop, and the next instant, Undyne and Frisk slide in, kicking up a cloud of dirt in her wake. “HOTLAND IS BULLSHIT!!” she roars, sweat pouring down her face. She pauses when everyone stares, looks in particular at the kids, and offers a rigid grin. “Uh... I mean... bull... doody??”

“Nice save. You all sure got back fast,” Chara observes.

“NO WAY, I COULD’VE GOTTEN BACK WAY FASTER!!” Undyne yells. She sags, dripping. “But I forgot how much I haaaaate Hotland...”

“Nyeh heh heh! Don’t feel bad! There is no shame in losing to the great Papyrus--AND his trusty sidekick, Flowsriel!” Papyrus declares, puffing out his chest.

“Hey, why am _I_ the sidekick?” Asriel complains.

“If Ree is anyone’s sidekick, he’s mine,” Chara quips.

“Actually, I think he might be my sidekick now?” Frisk suggests.

“Why am I ANYONE’S sidekick?! Geez! I’m the Prince, you know!” Asriel protests, puffing out his cheeks. His annoyance melts away into a bright smile as everyone breaks into congenial laughter.

“T-too bad about the race,” Alphys meanwhile says to Undyne, rubbing her shoulders as Frisk slips off Undyne’s back.

“Ehhh, there’ll be other ones,” she says, waving a hand. She grins over at Papyrus. “You did great, though! Heck, you beat ME! You’ve come a long way!”

“Y-yeah, Dr. Gaster would be really proud of you!” Alphys adds.

“Nyeh heh heh!” Papyrus laughs, cheekbones pink. “Oh, go on!”

“Oh! Is this another inside joke?” Toriel asks. “I understand this one!”

“Nyeh? What one?” Papyrus asks as he lets Asriel down.

“About Gaster!” she replies. “Just as we all felt Chara and Asriel call to us, Gaster helped protect us as well, did he not? Although my memories are somewhat dreamy and vague...”

“Wait, what?” Sans utters, thoroughly startled. Frisk, Chara, and Asriel all exchange a glance.

“Ah, yes, I remember this as well,” Asgore adds, stroking his beard. “It is the oddest thing... I feel as though I should know him better than I do... Perhaps that is the nature of the dream. After all, without him, we would not have found our way back... or at least, that is the feeling I get.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember that too!” Undyne chimes in as Sans, Papyrus, and Alphys all boggle. “He was kinda creepy and sad-lookin’, I think? Seemed like a decent guy, though.” She scratches her head, expression scrunched up. “Wait, was that a dream??”

“W-wait. Hold up. You all _remember_ him now?” Alphys asks.

“Uhhh, yeah? Should we not??” Undyne replies.

Sans trembles. “Oh,” he murmurs. Papyrus rubs his shaking shoulders. “Oh.”

“Sans, are you all right?” Toriel asks, concerned.

“Yeah. I just--” He cuts off for a moment. “Something something,” he concludes, sounding a little choked up.

She raises a puzzled eyebrow. “‘Something something’?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah,” he replies, voice cracking for a syllable. “Fill in the blanks yourself.”

“That is such a ‘you’ thing to say,” Chara observes.

Sans shrugs and doesn’t respond. Papyrus hugs him one-armed, and he lets him.

“S-so anyway, n-now that the barrier is down, we can all leave whenever,” Alphys says quickly. “Wh-what are you all gonna do? I’m g-going to get out there, meet n-new people, l-live it up in the sunshine, and t-turn my life around!” She pauses for a second, then breaks into a goofy grin. “JUST KIDDING I’m totally sitting at home like a loser and watching anime!!”

“What is ‘anime’?” Asgore wonders.

As he gets into a discussion on the matter with Alphys and Undyne, Frisk looks at Asriel and Chara. “What _do_ you two want to do on the surface?”

“Oh. Gosh. I don’t know,” Asriel says, scratching his cheek. “It’s been so long...”

Chara shifts uncomfortably. “No kidding.”

Toriel kneels in front of the children. “There will no doubt be monsters who do not desire to leave right away,” she points out gently. “If any of you wish to remain underground, you will not be alone.”

“If we decide on different things, who would you stay with?” Chara wonders shrewdly.

“...That would depend on who needed me the most.”

Asriel looks down at his feet. Then he looks up at his two best friends. “I... I want to go where Frisk goes,” he admits. “But I don’t want to be apart from Chara, either.”

“I don’t want to be apart from either of you, too,” Chara murmurs. They meet Frisk’s eyes. “I’ll go where you go. Hasn’t that how it’s always been with us?”

Frisk laughs a little. “...Yeah.” They pause, then look between the two. “...If I say I want to go back to the surface with everyone else, would you two be okay with that?”

“It’s fine with me.” Asriel brightens. “Golly. There’s so much I never got the chance to see. Now that it’s sinking in, I’m looking forward to all-new experiences!”

Chara sighs a little and folds their arms. “I’ve known for a while you wanted to go back.” They offer a crooked smile. “And I’ve made my peace with that. So let’s get it over with, Frisk.”

Frisk smiles back and takes Asriel and Chara both by the hands.

\---

At Toriel’s suggestion, before leaving, they head out together to walk through the Underground, talk to everyone they’d known, and make their peace. The patch of golden flowers all the way back in the Ruins is fine for all that its bed has sunken--and if they can manage through that just fine, then surely the flowers can take care of themselves.

On the way back, they all stop at the umbrella statue to listen to a nostalgic tune. They talk to all the monsters, and visit familiar places one last time as other monsters begin their own trek to New Home. When Frisk, Chara, and Asriel at last do likewise, it’s with unburdened hearts.

And then past the flowerbed, past the throne room, into the room where the barrier once was, and they find themselves in view of copper skies and pink clouds. Each looks at the others.

“Ready?” says Asriel.

“I may never be ready,” Chara cracks.

“It’ll be fine.” Frisk squeezes their hands, Asriel to their left, Chara on their right. “We’ve gotten through everything else so far; whatever happens next, we’ll get through that too. Together.”

And together, hand in hand, the trio walks out into the dawning sunlight, joined by all their friends.


	42. Best Friends Forever (I Love You)

Sans lights the tea candles of his miniature shrine. There were nicer, bigger versions at the store, but somehow the smallest, humblest kit appealed to him. After the monsters had returned to the surface, with Frisk’s help as human-monster ambassador, they’d established all kinds of businesses, homes, institutions... including a bizarrely popular cult to the robed, skeletal figure who everyone now remembered as the one who led their SOULs out of an empty sky and back to the kids for them to SAVE. Once, the only one who remembered Gaster’s name was Sans. Now _everyone_ does, albeit in a totally different context. It’s been kind of overwhelming.

Not in a bad way, though. Sans sets up one of the photos of his private collection, back when he’d kept everything truly important to him in the locked shed behind the house in Snowdin, and takes a step back to take the effect of the whole thing in. Somehow, it feels inappropriate. He kind of likes the idea of his father being embarrassed by all the fuss, though. He decides to keep that thought to himself.

“So,” he begins, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You’re probably watching, listening from somewhere... Well, I guess you always were? But this feels more like a personal conversation, so... here goes.

“I don’t really have to tell you what’s been going on, I’m sure. You probably saw Frisk agree to be ambassador when King Asgore asked. Heh, I bet you’ve seen Papyrus go out and be the monsters’s mascot. The humans really like him?” His perpetual smile crinkles wider. “I wasn’t sure how things would go, but hey, it turns out humans have good taste.

“So anyway, I’m sure you know me an’ Papyrus got brand-new rides--he really loves his shiny red car. Drives everywhere in it. You know Tori started up that school she always wanted to, and Asgore’s a professional gardener now. And of course, Alphys’s been doing great. She even goes out sometimes? I heard she hit the beach with Undyne last weekend, _and_ she invited me and Papyrus go on on a picnic with her and Undyne today. I’m really glad for her; she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her. ‘Course, she got fired as Royal Scientist after all, but there’s not really a Royal anything anymore, so I guess that’s just as well.”

Sans pauses. When he set this whole thing up, he decided he’d ad-lib the whole thing. No point in preparing a speech--just let it all flow from the heart. But, well... there’s not a lot of flow for someone like him. “Frisk is doing fine? They seem really happy now. Like they’re in their element, thriving,” he hazards. “They always did like helping people, and now they’re never alone. Oh, speaking of, they told me they talked to you. They’re a good kid, huh.” Another pause. “I’m... really happy they asked you to help out. That’s probably why everyone remembers you now, huh? I mean, it’s not as good as it could be, but it’s way better than I bet either of us ever expected to get anymore. They did what... what I never managed to.”

A third pause, this time to rein in the bubbling of emotion that threatens to knock down the dams of his barriers. He coughs into one hand, completely unnecessarily, but it helps him pull himself together.

“Anyway,” he continues, “about Frisk’s partners in _time_...” He trails off. What to even say about them? “Between you, me, and the wall, it’s really fucking weird to have them around,” he decides. “I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who thinks so, but maybe that’s ‘cause I’m the only one who knows about them being part of the anomaly. I haven’t even told Alphys yet. I’m not sure I ever will. You think I should?”

No answer, of course. The tea candles don’t even flicker.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so either,” he concludes. “Glad to know you’ve got my back, Gaster.” He waits a beat, then widens his grin. “Just kidding.”

This time, the candles _do_ flicker. Sans stares at them. Then he glances away. “...Yeah, I guess that _was_ kind of spiteful. Sorry.

“Uh, anyway. At first glance, Asriel seems like a nice kid. If you didn’t already know, you’d probably never guess he was Flowey. What a difference a SOUL makes, huh? Except I’m not sure the difference it makes is THAT huge. I’ve been keeping an eye on him, just to be safe. Sometimes I go to his performances with Tori.” He scratches his skull. “Starting to think I was just being paranoid, though. He seems perfectly happy with the way things are. He joined a club at school, even started one of his own? Some kinda support group for kids going through rough times. I popped in once, and he seemed like he was thriving. Maybe what he _really_ needed was some friends. Papyrus’s more than happy to step up, there, too.

“Same goes for Chara... I think. They’re a harder read. Or maybe I just don’t see ‘em as often. They stay inside a lot, more than even Alphys does. I haven’t actually seen ‘em in a while. I think it might be... a month now? Yeah, a month, I’m pretty sure. Undyne sees ‘em more than I do. Apparently they’ve been training with her, or so I heard from Alphys. Not sure how I feel about that. I guess I should cut ‘em more slack; I mean, I know they’re not a bad kid inside...” He shrugs, arms spread. “I’m pretty okay with us staying out of each other’s ways, though.

“And anyway, Tori and Asgore can handle ‘em. Asriel and Chara spend alternating weeks at Tori’s and Asgore’s, while Frisk stays with Tori full-time and sometimes spends a weekend at Asgore’s when Tori knows there’s someone else to supervise too. Seems to be working out so far. She’s real happy Frisk decided to stay with her after sayin’ good-bye to their old foster parent. Oh, and she told me, when they’re at her place while the others are at Asgore’s, they work on writing up some memoirs--or maybe it’s a story, or a biography? They’ve been writing something, anyway. In between being ambassador, natch. Which they’re doin’ a great job on! But you already knew that. Because I said so already. And... because you’ve seen it for yourself. Probably.”

He falls silent. Even for him, that sure was a whole lot of beating around the bush and refusing to get to the point. There are a whole lot of others monsters he could probably give meaningless updates on, like Mettaton and Napstablook and Muffet, but... enough is enough.

“...So, yeah,” he says, glancing away and scratching himself again. “Sorry. I did this to try to air some stuff out, but... I think maybe I’m too used to keeping it locked up inside. Doesn’t feel natural to say it out loud. Heh, guess maybe I’m a little too _keyed_ up, huh?”

The tealights bob a little but burn steadily. Sans’s smile strains.

“Yeah. Yeah. I know. _God_ , I just wish I knew for sure you were there,” he mumbles.

The tiny candles flare. He nearly jumps. When they die down, he peers closer and finds that they’ve already nearly burned down to nothing. “Get what you pay for, I guess,” he mutters. “Ahh, forget this. I never did know what to say to you, anyway.” He pinches the wicks to extinguish the flames, then watches the trails of smoke waft up to the ceiling. “But I will say this: I’m really, really glad people remember you now. I hope it cheers you up too... Dad.”

Silence fills the room along with the faint smell of incense. A buzz rattles Sans’s pocket. He pulls out his phone and reads the text he just received, then sets it back.

“Anyway, that’s Papyrus tellin’ me he’s just about back with Undyne and Alphys, so I gotta get going,” he says, looking back at the photo centered in the mini-shrine. “And... that’s it. Maybe next time, I’ll have something real to say.” He pauses. “Well, bye.”

Outside light briefly floods Sans’s disaster area of a room as he opens and shuts the door. The invisible figure of Gaster remains behind in the darkness, next to the extinguished shrine.

“(Next time, my son,)” he murmurs, then fades away.

\---

Spotlights illuminate Asriel, and Asriel dances. A pirouette with a fouetté turn, a failli leading into a jump, and then landing with his right foot at a careful angle, his left leg arced gracefully behind him, and arms en haut as the music glides to a halt with him. Applause thunders through the auditorium, and Asriel can’t quite keep a pleased smile off his face, even if he’s not 100% he got the ballet terms right in his head.

Frisk, Chara, and he had all agreed to attend his mother’s new school together, a place for both human and monster children to learn. With monsters and Frisk around, Chara doesn’t get as anxious around humans, and it’s apparently politically sound for the ambassador to attend school with the first mixed-species school in the country. His mother had urged each of them to take up a hobby via a club and be a leader, though only if they felt comfortable with doing so. Frisk had been too busy with everything else, so they’d picked something low-impact, a literature club for reading; Chara had refused to join one at all, opting instead to mooch off Frisk’s books; and on top of founding his own support group for troubled kids, Asriel had decided to join an amateur dance troupe for people wanting to learn ballet.

Somehow, though he’d never been interested before, he found himself drawn towards toe shoes and tutus. At first he’d been worried it was the influence of his patchwork SOUL; now, he not only doesn’t care, he embraces it. The sensation of his arms and legs in motion, expressing his feelings through pantomime... Once he tried ballet, he found swiftly that it could give him everything he’s lacked for so long. And, quite apart from that, he genuinely enjoys it. It’s tough and competitive, but that’s part of the fun. One day soon, he _will_ land a premier danseur role.

As the applause begins to die down, he breaks form to bow, then bow again. Back row where there’s space for the biggest monsters, near the center, and he catches sight of them: Mom, Frisk, Chara, Papyrus, and Dad, still clapping for him with broad smiles on their faces, Dad holding a video-cam to record. He beams back at them, resists the urge to wave (he’d look like _such_ a kid), and bows a third time before turning on his toe shoes and hopping away en pointe, just to show off. It turns out the way his legs are built, he’s naturally good at it; his teacher has high hopes for him.

He chats excitedly with his club-mates who took their turns before him, comparing notes on what they did well and what they messed up on; it’s everyone’s first performance, so they know they made little errors, but he thinks everyone overall did a great job. When the show ends after the final curtain call, he waves off to them, then changes into regular clothes, including a jacket (it’s a bit chilly this late at night) and his new favorite hat. He looks over himself in the mirror and tilts his hat just right, then smiles in satisfaction, grabs his duffel bag, and heads out.

On the way out, he waves to classmates and club-mates alike. Being the son of the teacher/principal means, much like when he was a prince, pretty much everyone is friendly to him, human and monster alike. It’s still a little lonely, but being in clubs--and making his own club--makes him feel a lot more like he belongs.

As he passes by a trio of classmates, they wave to him, then shout and wave him over. Asriel obeys, moseying over to join them as he adjusts his duffel bag.

“Your dance was so good, Asriel! Great job tonight!” one of them, a human non-binary kid with pink barrettes in their bushy pigtails, enthuses. “You’ll be a primo in no time!”

Asriel puffs out his chest and tips up his hat. “Thanks! You know it, Ja’mi!”

“You must be upset, though,” added another, a mouse-like monster girl with bright, copper eyes. “I saw hardly anyone from your other club in the audience. I can’t believe they didn’t show up to support you!”

“Naw, it’s not a big deal, Penny,” Asriel said, waving a paw. “They’ve got their own things going on.”

“Like what? Staring into space all day and skipping school every other day? Yeah, I’m sure that’s real important!” says a white human boy with cropped hair and a baseball cap. He laughs, and so do the others.

Except for Asriel, who frowns. He knows exactly who the boy is talking about--a white human girl who’s almost as quiet as Frisk used to be. He’d just invited her to his group last week, though she hasn’t given him a response yet. “Cut that out, Tommy! People don’t completely tune out like she’s been when everything’s going okay. You wouldn’t want people making fun of you either if something bad was happening to you!”

All three look chastened; Tommy grimaces, Penny blushes, and Ja’mi ducks their head.

“Sorry,” says Penny. “I just thought she was being rude.”  
“Even if she was, that doesn’t make it okay to laugh,” Asriel chastises. “You never know what someone else has going on at home! Be more careful, all right?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ja’mi agrees. “Sorry, I didn’t think.”

“Hey, you’re making me look like the bad guy here,” Tommy complains. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true!”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Asriel insists. “If you don’t have anything nice to say about her, then just leave her alone.”

“Look, it was just a joke--”

“Tommy, you need to stop,” Ja’mi interrupts. Penny nods along firmly. “If Asriel says you’re over the line, you’re over the line. You know if someone was making fun of _you_ behind your back, he’d tell them to cut it out too, right?”

He grimaces again. “Yeah... yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, Asriel. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Asriel smiles and tips his hat at his classmates. He can’t describe how good it feels that he’s now _known_ for being someone who’ll stand up for others--especially since he can do so because of support from his own friends helping him to be a better person. “Don’t sweat it too hard! We all make mistakes. Just be more careful in the future, hey? I’ll see y’all later!”

They all wave to each other one last time, and Asriel springs back out into the hallways, seeking his friends and family with vigor renewed.

The crowds are pretty thick in the halls and auditorium, and he’d bet good money that Chara would’ve asked for fresh air, so he heads outside. Sure enough, he finds the group a little away from everyone else, sitting on a low wall together, Frisk patting Chara’s back, Papyrus chatting animatedly at Mom, and Dad reviewing his recording. Asriel hurries over to join them, waving; Dad looks up and smiles and waves back, drawing the attention of the others who all look up at Asriel in turn.

“Hey! Congratulations! Your dance was really beautiful!” Frisk says, smiling as they stand up. They wink and point double finger-guns at him. “I just love a boy in toe shoes!”

“Frisk, you don’t have to flirt with me; we’re already dating,” Asriel replies, smiling.

“But that’s no fun!”

“And anyway, do you want them flirting with everyone _but_ you?” Chara points out, leaning their chin on one hand and smiling wryly.

“Hmmm... That’s a good point...” Asriel admits.

“You will enjoy the gushy side of romance soon enough, I am sure,” Mom remarks, poorly hiding a smile behind one paw.

“Moooom,” Asriel groans without feeling. She’s not wrong, but he’s not going to just _admit_ that.

Dad chuckles and holds out the video cam, miniature viewscreen popped out. “Would you like to review your dance, son? I think you did a fine job.”

“Agreed!!” Papyrus chimes in, leaning over eagerly. “I liked the parts where you waved your arms like you were flying! I thought that was neat-o!”

Asriel beams. “Gosh, thanks! And, uh... I’d love to, but we’d better get going first, Dad,” he adds. “I’m sure it’ll get a whole lot more crowded out here soon as people start filing out.”

“Mm... That is true,” he admits. “Very well, I will be sure to make a copy and give it to you next time you and Chara are by.” He carefully tucks away the video cam and gets to his feet. “Well then, I had best be on my way. It is getting late, and I am sure your mother wants to make sure you are all home in a timely manner.”

“Aww, you can stay a _little_ longer!” Asriel insists, grabbing hold of his father’s sleeve.

“Asriel, if your father needs to leave, he needs to leave,” Mom says, and while she sounds gentle enough, Asriel would know that steely undertone anywhere.

He sighs. His parents stay civil to each other in front of him at least, so sometimes he lets himself hope, but they’re never getting back together, are they.

“Don’t stress over it, Ree. Your mom and dad both made it to the recital, didn’t they?” Chara says then, as if reading his mind. He doesn’t know how they always do it, though it comforts him every time. They really do understand him, even if they aren’t the only one anymore. “We’ll see Mr. Asgore again next week.”

“Aallll riiiiight,” Asriel concedes, releasing his dad’s cuff. He smiles when his father tousles his fur. “See you later, Dad!”

“G’night, Asgore,” Chara adds, to which Frisk nods along.

“Good night, Asriel, Chara, Frisk. It was nice to see you again too, Papyrus.”

“Wowie! Thanks, Your Majesty! You too!”

He smiles, then nods politely to Mom. “Toriel.”

She returns the gesture, a little more sharply. “Asgore.” A breath, and then: “Please be careful driving home.”

He smile warms. “You as well.” He nods again to the group, and then begins to walk for the parking lot.

Mom watches him go, expression inscrutable; then she smiles at Asriel and everyone. “Well then, shall we be on our way?” As a group, they too head for the parking lot, albeit a different part. Once they’re in sight of her car and Papyrus’s, she adds, “Thank you for joining us, Papyrus. Please give Sans my regards.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!!” he declares, grinning at her and Asriel. “And sure thing! I’m just sorry my lazybones brother skipped out!”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind,” Asriel reassures Papyrus. Even after regaining his SOUL, he isn’t _quite_ comfortable around Sans. “See you later! Let’s go on that drive next time!”

Papyrus gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up, then heads over to his hot rod. It’s candy apple red and apparently has lots of ponies or something? Asriel can’t wait to hear it whinny.

“You guys should do ballet with me,” he adds to Chara and Frisk as they all pile into his mom’s car, not for the first time. “I’d love for us to do a pas de trois together.”

“I’ll pass,” Chara says. “I’d rather just watch you.”

“Will you wear the hat?” Frisk teases.

Chara snorts. “Who ever heard of a ballerino wearing a cowboy hat?”

Asriel winks and finger-guns at the both of them. “I’m a trendsetter, baby. Just call me the future of dance!”

Chara breaks into a laugh while Frisk play-swoons. The three of them chatter on through the evening, all the way back home.

\---

“NGAAAAH!! Ready to call it quits, wimp?!” Undyne roars, grinning sharkishly as she pins Chara facedown to the mat.

“Nnnnguh--I think maybe I am,” they grunt, gloved hands twitching.

When Undyne gets off their back, hooting, they wait for half a second, then spin their legs into a sweep using their right hand as a fulcrum. They don’t manage to knock her off her feet, but they do get her to stumble back several steps, giving them space to get back up.

“Then again, maybe I’m not,” they add, grinning back.

“YOU FREAKIN’ PUNK!!” she yells, but she looks delighted as she materializes a magic spear. “You really are determined, you little sneak!!”

“Gotta be determined to beat _you_!” they retort just before rushing at her shoulder-first.

Undyne thrusts her spear at them, but they’d anticipated that; they sidestep, made easier by how they’d rushed while presenting as little of their body as possible, and grab the shaft with their left hand as they close in. A right hook sails for Undyne’s jaw and connects. It’s like punching a boulder. Her grin widens as they yelp reflexively, and then she headbutts them.

“NOW are you gonna call it quits?!” she demands, bouncing up and down in place.

Head swimming, they stagger; however, they’re still coherent enough to answer by way of an elbow strike. She cackles in delight and blocks them with her spear, then knocks them away and calls up a dozen more. Chara dodges to one side as the floor glows; they remember doing this several times with Frisk, sometimes in Frisk’s place, while running through Waterfall. Once they’re close enough to Undyne, they aim an uppercut at her jaw, then thrust themself forward with a punch to her solar plexus, or the closest thing monsters have to one. Both blows connect, and Undyne snarls, then answers by way of grabbing them around the waist and suplexing them.

They’re still reeling on the floor when she demands, “Give up, runt?!”

“Neverrrrrr,” they growl, then swing their legs forward and back to kick her.

Their spar continues along that vein for a while longer, until at last both Chara and Undyne are sprawled on the mats together, panting and sweating.

“I got, you good,” Chara gasps, wiping the sweat from their brow.

“Heh, you’re pretty tough,” Undyne replies, heaving. “Guess humans, have one good thing, about ‘em.”

Chara barks out a laugh. “Just, the one, though.”

She laughs with them and raises a fist. Chara does likewise and bumps it against hers. It’s so satisfying to spar with someone who’s on your wavelength.

“A-are you guys finally done? I brought drinks,” says Alphys’s voice from the other side of the room.

“You’re the best, Alph,” Undyne says, pushing herself upright.

Chara follows her lead, ignoring the groans of their muscles. They grab the towels from the bench while Undyne heads over to her girlfriend, then bring Undyne’s over while rubbing their own over their face. Once they meet up with her and Alphys, they trade the towel for a frosty glass of...

“Lemonade?” they wonder, peering around the little paper umbrella.

“Yeah, l-like, I know you and Undyne don’t like soda, and I hear t-tea is dehydrating, s-so I figured maybe you’d like this instead?” Alphys suggests hopefully. “It’s instant, b-but still.”

“Sure,” says Chara, who could really have gone for some iced tea. “Thanks.”

The three of them sit together on the bench along the wall, and Undyne and Chara don’t speak again until they’ve drained their glasses. The lemonade’s pretty good for instant.

“Good hustle today, Chara,” Undyne says, tipping her glass at them. “I had to work my butt off to wear you down.”

They smile, pleased by the praise. “My body isn’t entirely physical anymore, and there’s no lack of bad humans out there. Need to be sure I can help protect everyone.”

“O-oh, that reminds me,” Alphys says, leaning forward. “I got your test results back. They’re on the kitchen table in a big envelope s-so you can read them later.”

“Can you give me the gist right now? I don’t want to wait.”

“Oh, sure. Um, b-basically, the magical and physical parts of your body have fused, s-so there’s no instability. It looks like having your own b-bones is keeping your determination from m-melting the rest of you--it gives them someplace to c-concentrate. So y-you’re doing okay so far. I’d like to k-keep an eye on you just in case, though, i-if that’s all right?”

They breathe out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks.”

Undyne elbows them. “Hey, good news, huh? Congratulations! Man, though, you sure are somethin’ else. Even death can’t keep _you_ down!”

“For better or worse,” they reply dryly. They hand their glass back to Alphys. “Are you two sticking around? I’ll make us dinner.”

“Nah, me and Alph were gonna go out for dinner tonight.”

“Oh? Stop by tomorrow, then. I’ll make you something for lunch.”

“Sounds good!” She punches their shoulder playfully and gets to her feet. “Now let’s get this room cleaned up before Toriel makes that disapproving face she likes to make!”

They play-punch her back, laughing. “All right, sounds good.”

It doesn’t take long to wipe down the mats, collect them and put them back in the closet. The garage is maybe not the greatest place for a makeshift gym, but it’s as good as they’ll get without leaving home. Eventually, they’ll have to actually deal with other humans face-to-face, and not in a carefully arranged place like school where Toriel and Asriel and Frisk can ensure there’s a barrier of monsters around them at all times, but... one thing at a time. With their knife gone, they want to be able to protect themself some other way, and hand-to-hand combat speaks to them--or to some part of their SOUL, anyway.

Though, speaking of humans... There’s a few of them in Ree’s club. A support group, really. He’d wanted to make sure kids like them and Frisk had somewhere to go, people to talk to, and that made them so happy... Though Chara hasn’t joined it, they do watch from afar and sometimes help out.

Once everything’s put away and Undyne and Alphys head out, they shoot Asriel a text: ‘hey, did that one girl ever agree to join?’

He responds: ‘Not yet! Feeling good about it though. Thanks for pointing her out to me btw. I thought she was just skipping for fun at first.’

They remember seeing the haunted thousand-mile stare behind her glasses, the way she’d neither talk nor volunteer on the days she showed up. ‘Nobody who acts like she does has _good_ things going on. I was just worried we’d have another Ebott kid on our hands.’

‘Hehe. I was saying something like that just the other day to some people.’ Then, ‘Frisk says they’ve been trying to talk to her too, so don’t worry, we’ll manage somehow!’

They smile and relax. Maybe they can’t do much good, but if they can help even one child like them... ‘Good to hear. I know you two can do it,’ they text back. ‘See you later, OK?’

After exchanging good-byes, Chara heads upstairs to take a shower and change, then heads into the kitchen to start making dinner. Toriel has a lot on her _plate_ these days--seriously, she always has--but it helps out if they prepare meals every so often. Plus it’s nice to spend time with her learning to cook and working through one of their many, many traumas. Humming to themself, they tie on their favorite apron and get to work on their specialty dish.

They wash a pot of rice and put it on to boil in the rice cooker, check the ingredients in the fridge, curse to themself when they realize they’re missing one, find a reasonable replacement, and keep going. They bring the pork cutlets out of the fridge and score lines in them with a knife, and then start mixing ingredients in a bowl for deep-fry batter. They’re in the middle of mixing the eggs when they hear the front door open.

“Welcome home,” they call, figuring it’s Asriel, Frisk, or both.

“Hey, Chara. S’been a while,” says Sans’s voice. “How you been?”

Chara nearly drops their whisk, then turns around to see him saunter into the kitchen after Frisk and Asriel.

“Recovering,” they manage. “You?”

“Recovering,” he replies.

They half-smile. “Heh.” Then they focus on their best friends. “Hey, Ree, Frisk.”

“Hey, Chara,” says Asriel. “Sorry, I forgot to mention earlier, but Mom’s gonna be late with parent-teacher conferences, so she won’t be home ‘til late. She asked Sans to keep an eye on us ‘til then.” He rolls his eyes. “I told Mom we could take care of ourselves, but you know how she worries.”

“Ahh. Well, that’s no problem. I was planning on making dinner for Undyne and Alphys too, so I got pork cutlets for six, but they decided to get dinner on their own,” Chara says. “There’s enough for Sans’s share.”

“Katsudon?” Frisk guesses.

“Yup.”

Asriel lights up. “Oh, man! I love your katsudon, Chara! Lucky us!”

“Don’t feel too lucky. I forgot we were out of soy sauce, so I’ll have to replace it with Worcestershire sauce,” Chara says dryly. “So the taste won’t be quite the same.”

“Oh, hey,” Sans says, opening up his jacket. On either side, bottles of condiments poke out of inside pockets. “You really _are_ lucky, kiddos. It just so happens I got that on me.”

“That is lucky,” Frisk observes.

Asriel and Chara, meanwhile, stare.

“I’m probably gonna regret asking,” says Asriel. “But: why?”

“I’m a condiment salesman now,” Sans replies, winking. “And I _relish_ my job.”

Asriel groans while Frisk and Chara laugh.

“Well, that’s great,” Chara says, turning around. “Could you hand me a bottle of soy sauce, then, please?”

“Sure.” Sans plucks out and offers them a bottle of Kikkoman, ever-grinning. “That’ll be 5000g.”

“Expensive!!” Frisk gasps.

Chara hurls an oven mitt at him. “You know my allowance isn’t that big!!”

Sans moves his head to one side, and the oven mitt sails past. “Oh, it isn’t? My bad. How about 10,000g?”

Chara breaks out laughing. “That’s even _more_!”

“Oh. Whoops. Then... how about--” He winks. “The last of your story?”

“Story?” Asriel echoes.

“The buttercup dog story,” Sans adds helpfully.

“ _Oh_!” Frisk utters, lighting up.

Chara stands up straight. “Really? You wanted to hear it that badly?”

Sans shrugs, ever-so-casual. “Hey, I’m just trying to make my condiments both delicious and affordable.” But the look in his eyes... “So, c’mon: what d’you say?” ...is tremendously keen.

A slow smile curves up their lips.

“What’s the buttercup dog story?” Asriel asks.

“It’s about how they got the ability to LOAD and SAVE and RESET,” Frisk explains. “With everything that happened, I totally forgot about it! You have to tell me the end too, Chara!”

“Wait, really? It didn’t just _happen_ for you?” Asriel says, floppy ears perking a little. “Could I hear this from the start? Please?”

“How could I refuse such an earnest request?” Chara replies sunnily, whose day started good and has just gotten far better. After taking the soy sauce and setting it to one side, they launch into a recap: about the buttercup pie, the garden with the two dogs, leaving with the one from the buttercup side, and how the other bid them farewell with a mouthful of herbs. When they finish, Sans and Frisk both watch and listen attentively, but Asriel’s face is scrunched up.

“Okay, so... the dog you left with was the Player, and the other dog was, uh, some kinda God or something, and he gave you some kinda plant for her to hold onto?” he summarizes, puzzled. “I don’t get it. How’d that get you the RESET power?”

“Hmm... What do you think, Sans?” Chara asks, sliding their gaze his way.

“ _Me_? Uhh, sorry, I wasn’t expecting homework.”

“Oh, come now. This is your specialty, after all. I thought for sure you’d have figured out the answer by now.”

He scratches his skull; then he shrugs. “Sorry to disappoint you, kiddo, but I don’t have a clue. Been a long time since I studied quantum physics seriously. Fill us in already, would ya?”

“Well, since you insist.” Their smile widens into a toothy grin. “It was all...”

“Oh no,” Asriel utters, realizing the truth too late.

“...because of the _thyme pair-a-dogs_!” they crow.

Asriel covers his eyes with both paws and lets out the most hideous, piteous groan. Frisk gapes at them for a second, then snorts, then bursts out into uproarious guffaws. Sans, however, just stares blankly.

“Did,” he starts. “Did you really just.”

They spread their arms. “ _Hay_ , be- _leaf_ it or _nut_ , it’s _Dog’s_ own _tooth_.”

And Frisk _howls_ , they _howl_ with laughter, tears streaming from their face as they bang a fist on the table. Asriel moans like he’s on the verge of death and in excruciating pain. Both satisfying beyond measure, but the all-important Sans is quivering.

“Did you seriously tell that _entire story_ \--the one you kept implying would solve the riddle of the anomaly and the time loops and give me all the answers I’ve ever searched for,” he says slowly, “just so you could end it with a bunch of puns?”

Chara meets his stare. “Yes.”

He trembles harder and bows his head. “I can’t believe it.” He shakes his head, then looks up to reveal laughter all over his face. “I can’t _believe_ it! I love this little jerk! ‘Thyme pair-a-dogs’--oh my god, you threw down the gauntlet, Chara. I can only _dream_ of pranking someone as hard as you just pranked me.”

Grinning in open gratification, they shrug with arms spread. “Hey, what did you expect? The answer to life, the universe, and everything?”

“Heh heh heh. Point taken.” He winks, while delight and agony ring out around him in equal measure. “So consider this challenge accepted... as friends, naturally.”

Chara beams, eyes sparkling. “Bring it on.”

\---

The soft scratch of pencil on paper threads in with Frisk’s humming as they record the day’s events in their journal. This one is red, for their current life; they have an aqua one for when they were in the Underground, and a purple one for random thoughts, observations, interesting facts, and the occasional poem or short story when they’re feeling inspired.

There’s a lot to talk about, especially with the resets and ultimately no explanation for how they were able to do that in the first place (they snort-giggle in the memory of Chara’s pun from the other day--that was _so_ them), so they save the aqua one for when they have to be alone. They still don’t really like it, and it’s lonely without Chara in their head, but it’s easier these days to put up with it. It’s never long before they see Chara and Asriel again, anyway, plus they’ve got a mom-ster and lots of friends. What a difference it makes, knowing there are people who genuinely care about you.

They aren’t alone right now; Chara’s in the shower (their turn was last today) and Asriel is reading a picture book. He must really like it, because his tail is wiggling. It’s the cutest thing and Frisk has to stifle a giggle every time they look over at him.

The muffled sound of rushing water stops, and a few minutes later, Chara enters the room wearing pajamas and toweling down their hair. They take one look at Asriel’s tail and smile; Frisk catches their eye and they share a knowing look. Then Chara passes Frisk’s bed, which is next to the window, to reach their own.

“Whatcha writin’ about, Frisk?” they ask, sprawling out.

“Lots of stuff. The class project we’re working on with gathering all the different kinds of leaves and identifying them; we finished a really good book in lit club; the human mayor and me talked about monster food and making it more widespread, and I recommended she talk to the Nice Cream guy for a start... Oh! And Violet finally agreed to join Azzy’s group. She seemed happy we cared so much!” they reply, smiling. It had taken her a long time to come around, but it’s worth the wait. What a difference it makes, indeed.

Chara smiles back. “That’s a relief. Sounds like your day was pretty busy.”

“Nah, today was pretty normal.”

They snort. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how quickly you can change your definition of ‘normal.’”

“I dunno. You got pretty used to how things are now too, didn’t you?” Asriel points out, putting down his book and turning on his bed to face them. “I mean, you can even stand to be around other humans now, sort of.”

“If by ‘stand to be around other humans,’ you mean ‘as long as they’re behind a wall of monsters and Frisk who can tell them I’m shy and they shouldn’t get too close,’ then yes, I can put up with it for the duration of the school day.”

Asriel laughs ruefully. “You say that like you aren’t paying attention to them, anyway! You could’ve done home schooling, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Chara stares at the ceiling; Frisk watches them out of the corner of their eye as they continue to write. “Because there’s still humans like Frisk and me around.”

Frisk’s pencil stills.

“And I like the other monster kids in our class. I’d miss ‘em if I stopped going to school,” Chara adds. “Anyway, if it gets bad, I can always switch to home-schooling then. Toriel said I could anytime I wanted to. That helps a lot. It makes it less stressful to go, knowing I’ve got the freedom to leave.”

“That sounds like you,” Asriel says. Frisk’s pencil resumes. “You always did hate getting bossed around.”

“Good thing you didn’t mind getting bossed around by me,” Chara replies, smiling.

“Bossed around, huh,” Frisk muses. They shut their notebook and set it and their pencil down on the nightstand, on top of their lit-club copy of _Gone With the Wind_ and Chara’s personal copy of _Kitchen_. “It’s more that you hate being controlled, isn’t it?”

“Haha. True.” They pause. “I don’t mind being told what to do, per se. It doesn’t bother me to do the dishes when Toriel asks or stuff like that. I just... don’t like feeling trapped, with no way out.”

Frisk and Asriel don’t answer. They don’t need to; they both understand.

“Anyway, I don’t mean to whine. I like that going to school means I can help make a difference to the kids who need it, even if it’s only a small one,” they continue. “Everything else is in the past now, anyway.”

“I don’t know. Some things... they don’t really leave you, no matter how far in the past they are, huh?” Frisk remarks, resting their chin on their hands.

“That’s true. None of us can ever forget what we’ve done,” Asriel murmurs. “Even if no one else can remember.”

“Well... You’re not wrong, but...” Chara rolls onto their stomach. “When _I’m_ the optimistic one, I know something’s wrong. Is something going on, Frisk?”

“Huh? Oh, no, not exactly, but...”

“Is something _not_ going on that _should_ be?” Asriel asks shrewdly, sitting up.

They smile ruefully and scratch their cheek. “Actually, yeah. Um... I didn’t want to bring this up, but...”

Chara furrows their brows. “What?”

There’s a certain tone to their voice that Frisk recognizes immediately: a seed of fear that it’s something they did, that they’re the cause of Frisk’s worries. “It’s not you. I just didn’t want to upset you,” they reassure them quickly. “It’s about the Player.”

“Oh. _Her_.”

“What about her?” Asriel prompts. “Isn’t it a good thing that nothing’s going on with her? Although, none of us have been able to SAVE or LOAD since then... Not that I’d want to LOAD back to before all of this.”

That’s true. Frisk hasn’t even seen a SAVE point since Gaster accidentally split their SOUL from their body. “Me neither, and yes, it’s good she isn’t causing trouble anymore, but, well... I just hope, wherever she is now, she’s doing better than she was here.”

“She won’t be,” Chara says curtly. “She’s the type who’ll NEVER be happy. But that’s not what you were _actually_ trying to get at, was it?”

They shake their head and turn themself to face Chara and Asriel. “Right. Right before we fought, she said that if we beat her, she’d give us something nice. ‘You’ll know it when you see it,’ she said.”

“Oh, I get it. And she never did, huh?” Asriel says. “Now that you mention it, that does put me out a little. But I guess you don’t usually get a drop from the final boss.”

“I’d say her leaving forever is something nice,” Chara quips.

“Maybe,” Frisk says reluctantly. “But no, I told her she didn’t have to, remember? Looking back, though, I wish I’d let her. Just so I could know what she had in mind.”

“Who cares,” says Chara. “It was probably only ironically ‘nice’ at best.”

“I dunno... I just... wish I understood her better. I feel like all of us were a lot alike, but... I don’t know. There’s something about her I just don’t get, and I’m not sure I ever will, now.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Asriel murmurs, bowing his head. “When I was a flower, we had a few conversations, and... I think she _got_ me. Or rather, she got Flowey. I think someone like that is scary.”

“...What she had in common with us was our worst sides,” Chara observes quietly, eyes averted. “I hate to do anything she says, even in a roundabout way, but she really was a good example of what not to do. I don’t want to be like her anymore--ever again.”

“Same here,” Asriel agrees. “Frisk, take it from us: don’t worry so hard about stuff you can’t change. She made her choices, and I got the feeling like she was willing to live with them.”

“That’s true,” Frisk admits, thinking back to her last words. When they’d thanked her, she’d cried. “Sorry. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.”

“Or maybe you’re just a super-nice sap who feels bad they couldn’t get a happy ending for every single person ever,” Chara counters wryly.

Frisk giggles. Although they still feel a tinge of pity, that cheers them up. Chara really does know them well. “Maybe you’re right.”

“You saved me, and Chara, and everyone in the Underground. I’d say that’s a really good ending,” Asriel points out, smiling.

“He’s right,” Chara chimes in. “You did your best, Frisk. And your best was great.”

They feel their face warm as their smile widens. “Thanks, Azzy, Chara.”

Chara smiles back, then yawns, stretches, and rolls back around. “All right. I don’t know about you two, but my horrific mutant hybrid body needs sleep. Ree, if you’re gonna stay up reading, make sure you turn the lamp off, all right?”

“Wait! What about...” Asriel gets a shifty look. “...you know?”

“You know?” Chara echoes, before sitting straight up. “Oh!!”

“What’s up?” Frisk wonders, tilting their head.

Chara and Asriel share a glance, then sneak one over at them. Then Chara rolls off their bed to whisper to Asriel. Frisk would be lying if they said they didn’t feel a little left out, but they expect they’ll learn what this is all about soon enough. They don’t need to rush it.

And they’re right: once the two finish conferring, Asriel swoops around the other side of his bed to retrieve something, and then he and Chara walk over to Frisk’s bed with something hidden behind his back.

“So,” Chara says gravely, standing tall. “Ree and I were talking the other week.”

“When we were over at Dad’s,” Asriel adds helpfully.

“We’re three in a pod now,” Chara continues, nodding at him and them. “But we don’t have anything that’s for the three of us together.”

Frisk tilts their head further. They’re not sure where they’re going with this.

“So we got Dad to get us a jewelry kit so we could make something, and...” Asriel presents what he’s been hiding. “Tada!”

Frisk blinks rapidly, first out of surprise, then to clear away their building tears. A set of necklaces glimmer in Asriel’s paws, clearly three of a kind, each with a pendant that forms a heart with the other two. Each pendant is engraved with a single word: “BEST,” “FRIENDS,” and “FOREVER.”

“Ree did the engraving, and I did the welding and picked the chains,” Chara declares. “We’re not going to get rid of our old necklaces, but we’ll be wearing these ones instead.”

“D’you like ‘em?” Asriel says eagerly, watching their face.

Frisk smiles with all their might, rubbing their eyes with one hand. “I love them,” they croak.

Chara and Asriel share a relieved smile. Then Asriel picks up and holds out the “BEST” pendant.

“This one’s yours,” he says.

“‘Cuz you’re the best,” Chara adds, smile lopsided.

Vision blurred, Frisk accepts it and pulls the chain over their head. Chara takes the “FRIENDS” pendant and Asriel keeps the “FOREVER” one, and they too pull theirs on before sitting on Frisk’s bed with them. Frisk reaches out to hug them, and Chara and Asriel hook an arm over the other’s shoulders and reach back out to them for a triple embrace.

“It’s great. Thank you both so much,” they whisper. “B-best friends forever?”

“Best friends forever,” the two chorus back, then lean in to kiss Frisk on either side of their face.

They burst into teary giggles and hug them both closer, and the three of them cuddle to their hearts’s content. Eventually, though, they part to return to bed. Frisk, still glowing, unties their favorite hair ribbon and sets it on their nightstand, but leaves their new pendant on.

“G’night, Azzy. G’night, Chara. See you in the morning,” they call softly as they turn out the lights.

Through another yawn, Chara replies, “Night, Frisk. Night, Ree. Sleep well.”

Asriel cuddles up to his pillow. “Good night, Chara. Good night, Frisk. Sweet dreams...”

_I love you._

The unspoken, mutually understood words drift between the three and cradle them all into gentle slumber.

\---

Pink rays of dawn stretch through the window, and Frisk, closest to it, stirs. They yawn and sit up and glance blearily at their bedside clock. 6:03 AM. Almost an hour before they have to get up. They’re tempted to lie back down and go back to sleep, but the pink, orange, and copper seared into the sky are beautiful enough to draw their interest. As quietly as possible, they slip out of bed, rub the sleep from their eyes, and sit next to the window to watch the sunrise.

The sun hasn’t quite crested the horizon yet. As annoying as it is sometimes to have an east-facing room, at times like this, it affords them a great view. Though, they wonder who forgot to close the blinds. Usually one of them does it. Maybe they all assumed someone else had. Oh well.

The morning star glitters up in the sky, not far from a pale crescent moon. Frisk leans their head on the windowsill to admire it. Though, it seems odd that it’s glittering. According to the astronomy books Sans lent them after they all came to the surface, the morning star is actually the planet Venus, and planets don’t glitter, which is actually a function of distance and atmospheric disturbance (they think; it was a little dense for them). Either way, it shouldn’t sparkle like that. Or, they’re pretty certain, drift like that. Or look like it’s drawing closer...

Frisk is on their feet in an instant, wide awake, unlocking the window and pushing it up. A moment later, what they thought was the golden planet comes to a stop on the windowsill and shimmers just as it is, right where it is. Though Frisk hasn’t seen one of these for what feels like a long time, they know exactly what it is.

_If You Beat Me, I’ll Give You Something Nice._

_You’ll Know It When You See It..._

In an instant, they’re at Chara and Asriel’s bedsides, shaking them both awake in turn. “Chara! Azzy! Wake up! You have to see this!” they hiss as quietly but urgently as they can. When Chara mumbles something and pulls their blanket over their head, Frisk grabs the other end and yanks it off.

“Nngnghgdkhlgrl,” Chara mutters, burying their face under their pillow. After several seconds of Frisk shaking them insistently, they groan, “ _What_?”

“Come with me. You have to see this,” Frisk insists.

“If you say so,” they mumble, sliding off the bed.

Next to them, Asriel sits up, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. “What’s going on?”

But Frisk just gestures for him to get up, and as they and Chara pad over to the window, he wobbles out of bed to follow. Frisk arrives first and waits for the others; once they arrive, one by one, they stare uncomprehendingly until the light breaks through the fog of sleep.

“What the hell,” Chara utters.

“Is--is that what I think it is?” Asriel wonders, blinking owlishly.

“Yeah,” says Frisk. “It’s a SAVE point.”

For a silent moment, the three of them stare at the four-pointed star, glittering cheerfully as it waits to be used.

Chara is the first to break the stunned quiet: “Why now?”

“I think maybe because we talked about the Player for the first time since we all left the Underground,” Frisk says. “She said she’d give us something nice. I think this is it.”

“Wait. Does that mean she’s not actually gone?” Asriel wonders, eyebrows furrowing.

Frisk shrugs. “I’m not sure. But I don’t think she’s coming back.”

“It could be a trap,” Chara murmurs, rubbing their arm. “If we use this, it might act as an invitation to bring her back. We should ignore it.”

“I don’t know,” Asriel says slowly, scratching his cheek. “I mean, you might be right. But... I feel like this is probably legit.”

“How do you know?” they ask.

“I don’t. I just have a feeling.”

Chara purses their lips. “What do you think, Frisk? Obviously you aren’t taking it at face value either, or you wouldn’t have woken us up.”

“It’s not that,” they reply. “Actually, I think it’s for real, too. But I thought it wouldn’t be fair if I used it on my own.” They pause to look between Asriel and Chara. “I think we should use it... but only if all three of us agree. We all made it here together. It’s our determination combined that keeps our SOULs together. So if we aren’t of one mind, I don’t think it feels right to SAVE.”

Asriel nods slowly, considering this. “D’you still think we should ignore it, Chara?”

“...Are you asking that because you want me to tell you what to do?”

He shakes his head. “No... I agree with Frisk. I think it’s a good idea to SAVE.” He smiles. “We’ve done a lot and come a long way. I think it’s worth preserving what we’ve done.”

“I’m not arguing against that,” Chara replies. “I’m just worried we’re being manipulated.”

“That’s true... I mean, it’s not impossible that it’s a trick,” Asriel murmurs. “Is there any way we can be sure it’s not?”

“I don’t think so,” Frisk says. “But... she said she was tired. That she just wanted this to be over with. Maybe this is her way of making sure none of us have to do any of that all over again.”

Asriel sighs wistfully. “I’d do the same thing in her place,” he admits. “If I’d gone back to being a flower... I don’t think I could do all this again.” He looks at Chara. “I don’t think we can trust her. But I think we _can_ trust her wanting closure.”

“Closure,” they repeat softly. The SAVE point’s light reflects off their eyes. They glance away towards the brightening sky. “I’m not sure we can trust her.” They pause. Then they look back at their two companions. “But I _am_ sure I can trust you two.” They hold out their hands. “If you both think it’s legit, fine. I’ll chance it if it means I can protect you and this world we SAVEd together.”

Frisk takes their hand, and Asriel takes the other. They each give each other a squeeze and a smile.

“On three, okay?” Frisk suggests. “One, two...!”

On three, the trio reaches out and touches the SAVE point. As it records all their hopes and dreams and feelings and memories, it glitters off the three matching necklaces around their necks, highlighting the word inscribed on the heart fragment on each. Then the SAVE point twinkles into nothing as the rising sun’s light envelopes them all, leaving Frisk, Chara, and Asriel to bask in the new day.

\---

END of ARC 3 -ASRIEL-

END of STRANGE PLACES

THANK YOU FOR READING!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chara's thyme pair-a-dogs pun, and the sheer amount of set-up they put into making it, was inspired by the anime _Jinrui wa Suitai Shimashita_.
> 
> "What were you expecting? The answer to life, the universe, and everything?" Chara is referencing _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ by Douglas Adams.


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